Red takes a couple of deep breaths to compose herself. She then walks over to the group near the dead camels, saying in calm and measured tones "I agree with burning the dead camels. And likely what remains of the Ghul as well. The dead will likely stay dead now, but I want certainty.
You are injured Sefu, Sláinte! Anyone else hurt?"
"I am well. Yet, you are injured. Go see Red first so she may heal you with her magic and if you require more healing then I or Paten can tend to your other wounds. I will tend Bjoern now, for he took such a beating in this fight that he could have easily died and perhaps become a ghoul come morning."
Samir nods and turns to Red.
Tairin, directs her dancing lights down to her and moves to Bjoern as he breathes heavily and wipes his blade with cloth. "I need to look at those wounds, clean and wrap them. You are not helping with anything in your condition. The others can drag the dead and burn them." Then Tairin set about examining the wounds and doing what she could for her bodyguard.
Farrokh watches the interchange with interest, but says nothing.
’This all sucks, well and good.’ Not feeling too particularly generous, he turns to the wounded Sefu, and spits. ”Bloody shame about your master loosing two good camels. I may be able to rent him one, if the price is right.” Pointing toward the east. ”We will move the living animals over there.” He nods to the dead animals. ”Then burn these, that should do just as well to keep the scavengers away.” He smiles and nods toward the nearest tent. ”If your concerned about the amount of fire we should use one of your tents for fuel. You don’t have enough animals to carry them all now anyway.”
Sefu pulls himself fully upright and jerks his blade from the dirt so it hangs loosely in his hand.
His face instantly loses any expression of pain to be replaced with a calm, emotionless gaze.
"As for your concerns? Firstly; it was not my master's camels which were burned but one's which had purchased for the trail," he says with a quiet voice.
"Secondly; if you wish to move the camels to the east of the dead that means they shall be furthered separated from our tents and a greater distance between our camp and the beasts - if you do this then I would advise you make sure the watch is spread appropriately as you are still contracted to function as bodyguards for my master."
"Third - regarding your words on burning my master's property; that will not happen unless he orders it."
Examination of the dagger reveals it is writ with symbols and patterns which make you think of certain gods of power in Susrah; power to do grievous injury to the undead is certainly forged within the blade. More than that, you cannot say...
"Finally - you are baiting me, northerner, though I do not know why - but I do not like that."
"Do not do that again; please," he adds with a courteous voice, but his eyes are watching Ala intently, as Sefu is preparing himself to defend himself from what seems like an inevitable attack.
His feet shift in the sand to widen his stance and he moves cautiously to a better position.
Patenemheb does not visibly respond to Yetara's actions.
He shouts over to Red:
"I will tend to the wounded once you have passed by them. I also advocate dragging away the bodies and burning them, for the safety of all in the camp. Also, someone must check the surviving camels for injury."
Patenemheb turns to Farrokh and quietly informs the desert dweller:
"My binding to Yetara, such as it is, comes of circumstance and promise of favour later. I have sworn no oath to him."
With a slight smile, he adds:
"Now, the physician will do his rounds. Guard my person until I am done, and allow the others to dispose of the carcasses. Please hand me my surgical tools and that pouch there.", he adds, pointing to specific items.
He will then resume work on Caslav then begin moving from wounded to wounded, doing work until he can do no more.
When treating deadly wounds, you can restore hit points to a damaged creature. Treating deadly wounds restores 1 hit point per level of the creature. If you exceed the DC by 5 or more, add your Wisdom modifier (if positive) to this amount. A creature can only benefit from its deadly wounds being treated within 24 hours of being injured and never more than once per day.
First Aid
Prerequisite: Wis 13, Heal 1 rankBenefit: When you perform first aid on a patient with less than 0 hit points, they gain enough temporary hit points to raise their total to 0. These temporary hit points last for one minute. If the loss of these temporary hit points brings the patient below 0 hit points, they are automatically stable. In addition, you gain a +2 competence bonus on Heal checks.
Medical Expert
Prerequisite: Wis 13, Heal 1 rankBenefit: When you use the Heal skill to treat deadly wounds, you may add ½ your ranks in Heal to the amount of damage healed. Patients who rest fully gain the benefits of two days of treatment for every day spent under your care.
The Base DC of Treat Deadly wounds is 20.
Results of 19 or lower: No HP returned that roll.
Results of 20-24: Character Level + 1 HP restored (so 4 for PC's)
Results of 25+: Character Level + 1 +4 Wisdom bonus HP restored (so 8 for PC's)
"Finally - you are baiting me, northerner, though I do not know why - but I do not like that."
"Do not do that again; please," he adds with a courteous voice, but his eyes are watching Ala intently, as Sefu is preparing himself to defend himself from what seems like an inevitable attack.
Samir moves to support Ala.
"The night has been sullied by dark things - undoubtedly we are all pushed past our limits and short of tempers - but let us not quarrel with each other."
Sefu glances between Ala and Samir.
"I apologize," he says to Ala.
"The easterner is right - I am overwrought by this conflict."
He sighs and looks at the camels.
"I shall aid you in moving our animals to the west of our tents. After, I will hitch the corpses to my horse and drag them somewhat further from our camp - it should not take overlong; no more than half an hour I would deem."
He leaves to go about that business and Samir speaks to Ala.
"I agree with you, my friend - the southron has his nose so far up his master's nether regions that he cannot see that the man is more of a dog than anything of honor or worth respect."
He then spits discretely at the tent that Yetara is quartered in, but making sure to wait until Sefu is out of view.
He looks at the spot where the undead had melted into the ground, the inky, black spot darkening the ground.
"What attacked us tonight was spawned by evil magic; yet does not this Yetara traffic in such power?"
He glances around then continues.
"Yes, yes - that pompous Lamurian aided us in the fight against the creature - even so, I deem that there may be more to this than a simple wandering wretch that could smell blood."
He peers at the others who are healing and doing what they can to aid in the recovery of the wounded.
"When Sefu retires we should speak to the others of what prompted this attack... Also; do you think it is a coincidence that we have taken in that Jairanian and now this - or perhaps I am merely suspicious..." he says, then shrugs.
"In any case; let us take care of business and then speak to our allies - they may have more to say on this matter..." he adds.
Samir does what he can to aid Ala and Sefu moving the camels away from the dead. Sefu then hitches the camels to the harness of his horse and drags them about 100 yards to the east of the of the camp and leaves them there.
At this time Sefu then hobbles the horse and bows before the others and retires.
"Now, the physician will do his rounds. Guard my person until I am done, and allow the others to dispose of the carcasses. Please hand me my surgical tools and that pouch there.", he adds, pointing to specific items.
"Yes, lord," he says and does what he can to aid him.
As Paten works Farrokh leans in close to him and speaks softly.
"This creature is assuredly some dark creature of a bygone age - likely roused from its sleep by some dark sorcery," he says slowly.
"Yet whence has it come? Such things do not linger near the roads between the gates of Kharjah and Yirlat else others would have surely heard of it..."
He shakes his head.
"And would we solve that quandary surely we must discover why it pushed its attack overlong rather than flee before it was destroyed..."
He looks at you and shrugs, clearly baffled.
After Sefu leaves Samir gives Ala a nod and moves to the campfire.
He glances at the others, but his eyes linger on Farrokh.
"Well... what shall we talk about?" he asks the others.
”I accept your apology if you will accept mine. I should not have been so surly with a brother in arms.”
Sefu bows before Ala.
"But of course," he says with his usual quiet graciousness.
Then he nods at Samir and returns to his tent.
He leans in conspiratorially, speaking softer. "Can the dark magic causing this beast be mixed up with our employer?"
Samir eases his shoulder and growls.
"For myself I wish to know where this scum has come from if not the sands themselves... Are such devils to rise from the very dust so we must fear to tread upon the ground?"
He shakes his head.
"If a man would avoid the shark let him first avoid the sea... yet how can we avoid such threats?" he muses.
He reaches to the ground and takes a chip of fuel and throws it on the fire to make it cackle and burn even brighter then shakes his head and peers up at those who remain near to he and Ala'Ihys, curious to know if they have any thoughts on the matter.
Having picked up his bow, Ala'Ihys returns to the fire, and begins to remove his breastplate, gingerly working around the bite wound left by the beast. he winces and ask. "Could someone bandage this while we speak?"
1st Treat Deadly Wounds on Ala'thys: 1d20 + 15 + 3 ⇒ (16) + 15 + 3 = 34
Time Taken: 1d6 ⇒ 52nd Treat Deadly Wounds on Ala'thys: 1d20 + 15 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 15 + 3 = 20
Time Taken: 1d6 ⇒ 2
Having finished administering to Bjoern's general wounds, Tairin made room for Patenemheb to look over the more serious of the injuries for the scholar was an expert healer.
"I have heard a couple of the mens opinions about this evening. We had difficulty seeing past the sharp ends, of the weapons we were carrying. what did you ladies observe?"
He leans in conspiratorially, speaking softer. "Can the dark magic causing this beast be mixed up with our employer?"
Tairin, speaking in a very discreet manner, responded to Ala'lhys, "When it turned invisible and moved away from us, did it not seem as though it were heading toward Daniya's tent? Could it have been sent for her? I am not certain of anything at present. Perhaps Red can use Yammosh's Crystal for it possesses the power of Vision and we can pose it the question of where the Great Ghul had come or its purpose..." Tairin's voice trailed off as her eyes looked to the witch healer.
"This creature is assuredly some dark creature of a bygone age - likely roused from its sleep by some dark sorcery," he says slowly.
"Yet whence has it come? Such things do not linger near the roads between the gates of Kharjah and Yirlat else others would have surely heard of it..."
He shakes his head.
"And would we solve that quandary surely we must discover why it pushed its attack overlong rather than flee before it was destroyed..."
Patenemheb nods ever so softly.
"I have wondered similarly myself. Such an unholy terror would be a thing of legend had it ever appeared here."
Having picked up his bow, Ala'Ihys returns to the fire, and begins to remove his breastplate, gingerly working around the bite wound left by the beast. He winces and ask. "Could someone bandage this while we speak?"
"Certainly, archer. I would see you hale and hearty, especially after your efforts this night."
After Sefu leaves Samir gives Ala a nod and moves to the campfire.
He glances at the others, but his eyes linger on Farrokh.
"Well... what shall we talk about?" he asks the others.
He leans in conspiratorially, speaking softer. "Can the dark magic causing this beast be mixed up with our employer?"
Samir eases his shoulder and growls.
"For myself I wish to know where this scum has come from if not the sands themselves... Are such devils to rise from the very dust so we must fear to tread upon the ground?"
He shakes his head.
"If a man would avoid the shark let him first avoid the sea... yet how can we avoid such threats?" he muses.
Quietly, Patenemheb speaks to the others.
"The great ghul could have easily escaped, almost at any point before its end. There are two major questions to answer here. Why did it come here, and why did it not flee to preserve itself? I believe the same answer can be applied to both: it was sent here to do as much damage to us as possible. Slay our number, and when that proved too deadly, to slay our camels. And it came close to succeeding. The arts to create, summon, or even command such a thing? Great indeed."
And Patenemheb will think upon specifics, for the inevitable follow-up questions.
He looks to Tairin and Red, smiling weakly, "I have heard a couple of the mens opinions about this evening. We had difficulty seeing past the sharp ends, of the weapons we were carrying. what did you ladies observe?"
He leans in conspiratorially, speaking softer. "Can the dark magic causing this beast be mixed up with our employer?"
"The great ghul could have easily escaped, almost at any point before its end. There are two major questions to answer here. Why did it come here, and why did it not flee to preserve itself? I believe the same answer can be applied to both: it was sent here to do as much damage to us as possible. Slay our number, and when that proved too deadly, to slay our camels. And it came close to succeeding. The arts to create, summon, or even command such a thing? Great indeed."
Red listens to Ala’Ihys and is about to reply when Patenemheb speaks and she listens to him instead, while using the Healing Hex on Ala’Ihys and Samir.
Red then replies "I was thinking the same thing Patenemheb. The Ghul's attack was purposeful. When it failed in it's attempt to slay us it went for our mounts, which indicates a deliberate attempt to stop our progress. Disturbing."
Red then speaks quietly to Ala’Ihys and Tairin "That should ease your wounds Ala’Ihys. These supernatural attacks could well be linked to our employer, but if so it is an enemy of his behind it."
Red then calls over Sefu, saying "You two have displayed wisdom and grace in putting the ill feelings caused by the tensions of this evening behind you. Mysterious supernatural attacks are a strain on anyone. Fighting among ourselves can only make our difficult lot even worse. Do you need healing Sefu? And you Farouk? A witch's work is never done."
Red then calls over Sefu, saying "You two have displayed wisdom and grace in putting the ill feelings caused by the tensions of this evening behind you. Mysterious supernatural attacks are a strain on anyone. Fighting among ourselves can only make our difficult lot even worse. finally do you need healing Sefu? And you Farouk? A witch's work is never done."
Farrokh blanches at the words a "witch's work is never done", clearly a bit unnerved by the supernatural. However, as he watches Sefu accept the healing with calm resolve and gracious thanks, he, too, accepts the healing.
"Many thanks," Sefu says, then bows and retires to Yetara's tent.
Farrokh also nods his appreciation.
"My thanks, lady," he responds, though still a bit nervous around the presence of magic.
Feeling slowly warmth return to his body Bjoern listens to the discussion but then speaks up.
"I am no expert, mind you. But I heard that the dead are often hungry without end and need to feast on the living. Maybe he was soo ravished that he had no choice but to attack."
Taking a swig from his beltflask and let it slush in his mouth before spitting out, he takes a moment to focus.
"Nevertheless, the attack worries me. I have a bad feeling about all of this. We should seek an oracle and let it cast the bones for us!"
He gives a short laughter.
"Alas. The only one I know is many moons travel from here."
"Nevertheless, the attack worries me. I have a bad feeling about all of this. We should seek an oracle and let it cast the bones for us!"
He gives a short laughter.
"Alas. The only one I know is many moons travel from here."
Samir gives a glance toward the tents, his eyes flicking over the groups and pause on the face of Farrokh, then moving back to Bjeorn.
"We have at least one that can divine things at great distances that is closer than many moons," he says with a neutral voice.
Then he hurries on.
"Yet it seems to my mind that if we seek to petition any power we must be delicate with our query... it would not be wise to seek an answer to a question that we do not truly wish to know the answer to..."
"Yet it seems to my mind that if we seek to petition any power we must be delicate with our query... it would not be wise to seek an answer to a question that we do not truly wish to know the answer to..."
"I would put forward we ask the Crystal to reveal the person behind the Great Ghul. The name and/or location of the person who sent it after us and for what purpose. Perhaps it was not after us, but Yetara and his people...and since we are guarding them, it had to rid itself of us first. To be honest, I am weary of delving into such thoughts and machinations. I do agree with Samir, we must be delicate and clever in what we ask Yammosh's divining crystal." The hour grows later still and I am tired and wish to sleep for we will rise again at dawn. If we ask in the right way, we may gain a reliable account. If we mean to ask, then we should do it now. Her thoughts rolled silently as she waited to hear from the others.
”I don’t know. If it was after the girl why didn’t it go straight there? It seemed to be a beast, couldn’t it have smelled her?”
Samir gives Ala a wry look.
"Aye - mayhap, she does have a particular scent," he says with grunt "Yet perhaps it was not after the girl..." he says slowly, then looks around at the others as if trying to gauge who among them may be hunted.
Holding still while Patenemheb ministers to the nasty wound, he speaks his thoughts aloud. ”If you are right Patenemheb, then it was sent for all of us, not just Dayina or Yetara. Unless whoever sent the beast couldn’t specify who they wanted dead.”[ He flinches slightly as Patenemheb applies a salve. ”But you would think that someone with that kind of power could get the beast to go after a specific target.”
"Who knows the way of sorcery? The creature assailed us and we slew it; for myself I would know where it came from so we do not stray to close to another..." he adds with a frown as he studies Farrokh suspiciously.
The Jairanistan sees the look but his face is inscrutable.
"There is a legend of the folk of Zul-Bazzir that to the north east of their walls there was a great city that existed long ago; its leader was formally a lord of great lineage, but in reality it was an easterner from the realm of Taikang who ruled the city - though in title he was merely the Vizier."
"All men in that city obeyed the will of the Vizier for it was said he had the power to summon demons from other worlds and through the will of the easterner the lord of the city massed a great army."
"The army journeyed south to Yar-Ammon, it was said, but there the old gods of that land aided their armies and to punish the northern king and his Vizier - and through the will of the priests a mighty sandstorm arose - it was said it lasted a year and a day - and when it ended the city was no more."
He shrugged.
"This tale the folk of Zul-Bazzir do not speak of overly much, for they do not like to minimize the might of their ancestors that once ruled Khazistan. Yet I heard that much at least when I served in the House of Abu Kafi, for there I met a priestess who hailed from Taikang who would speak often of the greatness of her people... This is why I heard the tale, for she seemed to know much of the history of the Vizier and his dark power - him she named Yah Chieng - but he has died long ago with that cursed city."
Samir watches him intently, studying him, and his eyes flick to Ala, curious to know what his ally might think of this tale.
He then leans back casually and folds his lean arms over his chest, clearly still suspicious of Farrokh and not wholly comfortable taking the outsider into their confidence.
He glances at Tairin to see what she thinks, but says nothing at this time...
Patenemheb breaks from his ponderings at Farrokh's words.
More pieces to fit into this puzzle.
"The method of creating such a creature deliberately is beyond my knowledge. But I believe that it was once an efreeti, summoned to this plane in ages past. It would take a powerful wizard to summon and use such a creature. How such a pair might perish I do not know, but die they surely did. Perhaps the wizard was the Vizier that Farrokh speaks of, perhaps not."
Casting his eyes around the group, he continues.
"It would take considerable resources, and potent magic, even to find the undead remnants of that efreeti, the great ghul. Let alone to command it. The likes of nobility, royalty, even would be likely candidates."
And his gaze turns to Caslav and he finishes with a low voice, by the end almost a whisper, and perhaps not coincidentally, facing away from Yetara's tent.
"Such as the priests of Yot-Kamoth, in disant Lamu."
And now we see how the young Caslav responds.
As Farrokh tells of the City, would Ala’Ihys have heard any of the tale?
Knowledge (geography): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (2) + 7 = 9
Knowledge (local): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (11) + 5 = 16
sense motive: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 6 = 18
1. No - the tale is so old it seems almost like it reaches back to the depths of legend; you have not heard of it, certainly not in Susrah.
2. There are many tales of how the people of Khazistani assailed their neighbors - typically they did this with the folk of Jairan; you know of some raids with those of Yar-Ammon; but that land is filled of dark rumor.
All know that the folk of Yar-Ammon are mysterious and typically untrustworthy - they all have a lust for power and sorcery; that their folk are cut of cloth not unlike Yetara himself; for they are the "Civilized" and even "Decadent" sorts and this is not a healthy place for those who live and die by the sword.
Further, their people have dark cults dedicated to Zanthiss, the Great Serpent - who some call the ancient demon-serpent of Yalotha, and in some realms he is known as Hassith-Kaa. It is said that he is the father of various ophidian races and a master of sorcery. Zanthiss is currently believed to be confined to an extradimensional prison, or perhaps banished to a remote star, after the downfall of the serpent-empire of Yalotha.
But to a slayer such as you, it's probably just another snake cult...
All of this aside; if Khazistan had assailed Yar-Ammon then the folk of Khazistan would likely win that war (if war it was) for their soldiers and greater - however, if Yar-Ammon employed sorcery it would be the only thing that you know of which would tip the scale in their favor.
In short; if this legend is true, it does coincide with the rumors you've heard.
3. You believe Farrokh completely; at least, he may embellish details for the amusement of the crowd (perhaps) and exaggerate details beyond their size (as is not uncommon with mercenaries); yet he clearly feels indebted to Paten. In short; he's eager to do what he can to help and you believe that his story is sincere - whether it is true or not, you do not know, but you do know that he is being honest about having heard it.
As Farrokh tells the tale, Ala’Ihys watches and listens, scooting a little closer to his friend, whispering to Samir. ”This is a place I would like to explore, what say you Samir? Have you ever heard of the place.”
"What? Go to a hidden city which is buried beneath a sandstorm contrived by dark sorcery - and the same city that is the home of a mighty sorcerer who summoned dark creatures of ancient power, but is now his resting place for his corpse - and is not the home of any but for errant dead who rise to walk those brooding and sepulchered crypts and sand-swept ruins?"
"My friend, I have no desire to live forever; yet not even the The Fire of Asshurbanipal would beckon my feet there... or at least; not yet..." he says, pausing a moment, as if considering the full implications of such a city and what treasures it may hold.
But then he shakes his head.
"Such cities may surely wait another day; now we are lean on supplies and we have yet an errand to perform. Perhaps, once we have sheltered a while in this Zul-Bazzir then we may be better able to seek out this mysterious place..."
”But, Perhaps if we survive this evil path we are on, we can go speak with this priestess from Taikang.” He then smiles at Samir, winking. ”What say you Samir, you’ve always had a weak spot for priestesses.”
He glances at Ala.
"Ah, my friend, I have no qualms in dabbling with any maiden if she awakens my fancy; yet all know that both priest and priestess are risky folk to engage with too closely - they have subtle minds and their words are full of guile and innuendo which could baffle anyone who is not fully ready to deal with such trials..."
"Now we two have had good fortune with our last Mistress; but I would be cautious before pressing my suit with any who serve in a temple, especially a true priestess - for all know that they have powers that stem from other realms... And woe to any man who inspires the ire of a woman - yet far worse for him if that woman can summon demons to beset him," he adds with a nervous smile.
Leaving Caslav to his thoughts for the time being, Patenemheb turns to the others.
"There surely would be ancient lore in said city, if any of it remains and could be found. But we would need to be well-prepared, body and soul, before even seeking such a dark place. As for priests and priestesses, there are ways to bring up matters of import with them."
Patenemheb is definitely alluding to *something* with that last comment. He certainly seems confident in the matter.
A heavy wind has been blowing steadily harder over the desert dunes, but the party has given it little thought. Instead, they seem bent on traveling as quickly as they can to reach the Yirlat Oasis.
A heavy wind has been blowing steadily harder over the desert dunes, but the party has given it little thought. The assault with the undead creature was roughly four days ago and they are eager to put as much distance between that threat as possible. Because of this, they made great haste and have reached their destination relatively quickly traveling since morning until after midday, hoping to arrive their quickly and replenish your low supplies.
However, no one minds the increase of speed as they are all now at the Yirlat Oasis.
The broken sand and craggy scrub has given way to pockets of rough trees and course grass. Even so; the party is relieved at the tang of moisture in the air combined with the modest breeze rising from the water.
There they see a company of people lounging about tents and taking their ease.
Many bear gear that marks them native to Khazistan – of these you see two small groups – one of them seems to be a group of nomads simply halting to refresh their mounts, another seems to be a company of tradesmen with various bundles of cloth stored near their resting camels.
Finally, a small company seems to be Zadjite, and you notice at once that there is group of slaves with the apparent leader of the caravan – as well as some lounging guardsmen.
Approaching the water you realize that most of the folk are resting now as they have no interest in traveling during the hot sun. No one seems interested in disputing your right to fill your skins or water your mounts; instead, they merely watch you with curious looks from their make-shift tents and shelters.
Yetera insist on getting his full tent set up – not to be outdone by the locals who are resting comfortably – and so Sefu complies while Yetara escorts Daniya away from the labors.
Samir moves to get water and take care of his mount and watches with a cold gaze the collection of men and women who are shackled together under a tarp. His eyes range over the women, mostly, and he scowls at the mercenary guards who stand by them – their masters seeming indifferent to the looks and content to play a game of dice.
Farrokh ignores the entire sets of outsiders and busies himself doing all he can to aid Paten and Red in whatever task the man may have. Though he is clearly nervous to be near Red; his suspicion of the supernatural prompts him to be obsequious to her, yet you suspect this is only for his fear of her sorcery…
Meanwhile, as Samir watches the slaves he moves casually to Tairin and Ala.
”Look at those Zadjite dogs!” he sneers.
”I am in no mood to start undue trouble – but I say to you truly, I like not that any man should live in chains,” he growls, then spits in the sand, his fingertips tapping on the hilt of his sword.
Patenemheb has suffered greatly from the heat over the past four days, so the sight of the oasis is even more of a relief to him. As they close, he says to the others:
"We must fill every skin and canteen that we can. Perhaps even trade for more."
Seeing the Zadjites, he thinks upon what he has read about such folk, while asking Farrokh quietly:
"Do any of those appear familiar to you?", indicating the Zadjite tent with a subtle hand movement.
Bjoern looks at the horizon and feels the hot wind.
Taking 10 for survival to gain +2 to survival checks
Finally arriving at the camp site he feels the hot weather.
"I am getting throughoutly fed up with this weather.
I do need some better clothes!"
"Not me! But alas, let us make this brief."
Paten, you have already rolled and taken 12 non-lethal.
1 and 2 – Lands and Lore:
Their lands are to the south of Khazistan and east of Yar-Ammon. The turbaned fire-worshippers of Zadj are an offshoot of the Jairanian race in the west. They have exploited the riches of their new homeland well, and grown rich as spice merchants and slave-traders. Having brought with them a high level of culture from Jairan, the Zadjites are skilled artisans and Iraab, the marble capital by the sea, is a center of learning as well as rich trade and exquisite craftmanship. The interior plains and forests of Zadj are dominated by the fortress-city of Al-Qazir, also known as the City of Slave Sultans, for it is held by a council of slavelords who only pay lip service to the emir of Iraab.
Appearance: Swarthy, turbaned, wearing colorful robes and gold-hilted curved daggers. The raven-haired Zadjite women are famed for their sensual beauty; they are often scantily clad and adorned with glittering jewelry.
Religion: The Zadjites hold «the Sacred Flame», a nameless elemental god, above all others.
Culture: This wealthy and callous people of tradesmen is mostly Decadent, with only a smattering of Civilized individuals remaining, virtually none of them among the upper classes.
Language: Zadjite, plus Old Jairanian as a bonus language.
3. What they’ve been up to?
As a nation you have heard only they have engaged in trade lately; rumors have it that their corsairs raid the from Ikuna to Nabistis; electing to hit towns and villages and taking slaves where they could find them. You are not surprised if any folk who have sailed find the Zadjites to be particularly offensive.
They have traded well with the folk of Yar-Ammon; indeed, most of the slaves of your nation come from the auspices of the Zadjites. As for this group particularly, you cannot be sure…
”Be patient my friend, I have no love for slavers either. But we will be here for a while and we might learn something to help those unfortunates.”
Samir grins wickedly.
”Aye – you are right; let us waste no time,” he says, almost if he either misunderstood Ala’s words or he is so eager to act that he's misconstruing things.
Loosening his sword in his sheathe he strides to the Zadjites with a confident swagger.
Before he reaches them he sees their mercenaries move between the charges and Samir.
The Nabistisian gives them a bright grin.
”Greetings, my friends,” he says with a courteous nod of his head.
”You have plenty of goods, I see – are you interested in parting with any of them?”
The mercenaries give Samir a strange glance, then look to their masters for instruction.
The Zadjite folk ignore both Samir and the mercenaries for the most part; however, one of them glances up at Samir.
”If you wish to discuss business send us your own master directly; it is too hot to haggle with a proxy…” he says with a bored yawn.
”Aye; haggling is a game overplayed,” he says in response and his hand shifts his sword hilt forward, enough that you suspect he may take a more direct action if you do not choose to intervene very quickly.
on Samir’s response
sense motive: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (18) + 6 = 24
Samir speaking another language to the nasty Zadites
sense motive: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (20) + 6 = 26
watching the Zadites
perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (1) + 8 = 9
1. Your initial response to Samir is that he has looking to start a fight, rather than attempt to be Diplomatic.
2. You don't really get what we's saying; but since you're totally focused on him (via the natural 20) and you've spent some time with him, you'd wager that he has a specific problem with Zadjites in general, more so then he would have with normal slavers... at least; that's how it comes across to you...
Your Natural 20 does prompt you to recall that in the past remembering rumors that the corsairs of Zadj had raided the coast of the Eastern Ocean heavily, looking for slaves at outlying villages and towns as well as pirating trading vessels so they could take slaves.
3. You have no idea of what's going on with the Zadjites; your attention is focused on the Samir - you think, however, that the mercenaries are
Azimbanan, though, as they carry long spears. If so, that could be problematic in close quarters fighting.
Seeing you approach Samir seems confident enough to proceed...
Tairin was glad to reach the designated oasis. At first she could withstand the heat atop of her, then as the days past, it became overbearing and she suffered (although silently).
She dismounted Haji and settled him with the other camels - securing him and allowing him to drink water and eat with the camels of the caravan. She took her waterskins and canteen and moved to the water to fill them; casually keeping an eye on the others biding their time around the pond. Tairin politely inclined her head and smiled amiably to those whose eyes were fixed on them, hoping to ease any tension at their presence.
Once her skins were filled, she moved to the others. Samir joined her and Ala'lhys,
”Look at those Zadjite dogs!” he sneers.
”I am in no mood to start undue trouble – but I say to you truly, I like not that any man should live in chains,” he growls, then spits in the sand, his fingertips tapping on the hilt of his sword.
In a voice low with her mouth cast down and away from the eyes of their audience, Tairin murmured, "Enough talk of such things. My head aches from this heat and all I wish to do is rest and revive myself. Do not start trouble, Samir." Tairin's thoughts on slavery were not so troubling - for her own family owned them and so she was not set against it. Yet, she did not have the energy nor the desire to say just things to her companions for the hot-headed among them were already bristling for a fight.
When Samir moved to the Zadjites/mercenaries, Tairin's hands curled tight around her skins. He will be the death of us for he cannot curb his temper and impulsiveness.
"”Aye – you are right; let us waste no time,” he says, almost if he either misunderstood Ala’s words or he is so eager to act that he's misconstruing things.
Loosening his sword in his sheathe he strides to the Zadjites with a confident swagger. Before he reaches them he sees their mercenaries move between the charges and Samir. The Nabastissean gives them a bright grin.
Tairin could not understand Samir's words in the foreign tongue. Her head pounded anew, yet she watched Samir and the men around him, attempting to gauge their body language and manner/tone for evidence of impending trouble.
As she studied the Zadjite under hooded eyes, Tairin also attempted to recollect anything she had heard or knew of them.
Patenemheb will beckon Farrokh to join him and Tairin in filling the waterskins. Being a meticulous sort, and badly overheated himself, Patenemheb will be slower at this process than the others.
He will of course keep an eye on the other groups for potential trouble, especially when he takes a break to lean on his staff.
Not speaking Zadjite or Jairanian, Patenemheb is less inclined to join Samir and Ala’Ihys in their approach.
That is 3 fails I think.
Upon arriving at the oasis is to see her camel Bishop receives water without delay, followed by refilling her waterskin and using a little of the water to cool herself off.
When this conversation occurs-
'”Greetings, my friends,” he (Samir) says with a courteous nod of his head.
”You have plenty of goods, I see – are you interested in parting with any of them?”
The mercenaries give Samir a strange glance, then look to their masters for instruction.
The Zadjite folk ignore both Samir and the mercenaries for the most part; however, one of them glances up at Samir.
”If you wish to discuss business send us your own master directly; it is too hot to haggle with a proxy…” he says with a bored yawn.
”Aye; haggling is a game overplayed,” he says in response and his hand shifts his sword hilt forward, enough that you suspect he may take a more direct action if you do not choose to intervene very quickly.'
Red, who speaks Zadjite is alarmed and suspects Samir may be under unnatural influence, runs up as it becomes clear Samir seems to be about to start a combat.
After Samir's last statement, Red says loudly and clearly "Samir, enough, come away!" Then, speaking to the Zadjites in their own tongue, says "Apologies good sirs. We have had a long and hard journey through the desert. Please be re-assured our intentions are peaceful."
She dismounted Haji and settled him with the other camels - securing him and allowing him to drink water and eat with the camels of the caravan. She took her waterskins and canteen and moved to the water to fill them; casually keeping an eye on the others biding their time around the pond. Tairin politely inclined her head and smiled amiably to those whose eyes were fixed on them, hoping to ease any tension at their presence.
Diplomacy via body language: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (17) + 13 = 30
Perception to keep an eye out for trouble or anything noteworthy: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (7) + 8 = 15
Once her skins were filled, she moved to the others. Samir joined her and Ala'lhys,
In a voice low with her mouth cast down and away from the eyes of their audience, Tairin murmured, "Enough talk of such things. My head aches from this heat and all I wish to do is rest and revive myself. Do not start trouble, Samir."
Samir turns and looks at Tairin, and notes her movements and her beauty - pausing, then, in his eagerness to draw steel...
"Fear not, sayida; I shall not shame you," he says, responding in Susrahite with a somewhat roguish gleam in his eye and small, crooked smile.
Her head pounded anew, yet she watched Samir and the men around him, attempting to gauge their body language and manner/tone for evidence of impending trouble.
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (5) + 5 = 10
Perception to note nervousness/tension in their bodies/expressions: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (7) + 8 = 15As she studied the Zadjite under hooded eyes, Tairin also attempted to recollect anything she had heard or knew of them.
Knowledge History on their lore: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (3) + 9 = 12
Knowledge Local on their recent activities: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (16) + 9 = 25
Know Religion on their beliefs/tenets: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (20) + 9 = 29
The twelve guards seem somewhat distracted by your wiles - and those who few who may give passing glance to Samir are not overly impressed. After all, he is one man - they are many.
In short, they seem to be more interested in a Yar-Ammonite woman approaching them and their eyes travel you appreciatively...
With that in mind, you note that Samir's somewhat dour respect with you has suddenly shifted; you would guess his recent words, as well as his body language, remind you somewhat of a rogue who is willing to risk death and perhaps die if it might bring a smile to your lips.
The turbaned fire-worshippers of Zadj are an offshoot of the Jairanian race in the west. They have exploited the riches of their new homeland well, and grown rich as spice merchants and slave-traders. Having brought with them a high level of culture from Jairan, the Zadjites are skilled artisans and Iraab, the marble capital by the sea, is a center of learning as well as rich trade and exquisite craftmanship. The interior plains and forests of Zadj are dominated by the fortress-city of Al-Qazir, also known as the City of Slave Sultans, for it is held by a council of slavelords who only pay lip service to the emir of Iraab.
Appearance: Swarthy, turbaned, wearing colorful robes and gold-hilted curved daggers. The raven-haired Zadjite women are famed for their sensual beauty; they are often scantily clad and adorned with glittering jewelry.
Religion: The Zadjites hold «the Sacred Flame», a nameless elemental god, above all others.
Culture: This wealthy and callous people of tradesmen is mostly Decadent, with only a smattering of Civilized individuals remaining, virtually none of them among the upper classes.
Zadjite Whip-Mastery [General Feat]: Your skill with the lash is legendary.
Beyond this you know enough that the corsairs of Zadj would have done quite a bit of harm to the coast of Susrah and Nabastis (Samir is from there) and you also know that they typically take slaves from ships they pirate and plunder (you are not sure; but you believe Samir has spent time on the water).
With all of this you suspect Samir's intentions toward the slaves are less about freeing the defenseless and is likely more about slitting some Zadjite throats for some reason - but you could be wrong.
Patenemheb will beckon Farrokh to join him and Tairin in filling the waterskins. Being a meticulous sort, and badly overheated himself, Patenemheb will be slower at this process than the others.
He will of course keep an eye on the other groups for potential trouble, especially when he takes a break to lean on his staff.
Not speaking Zadjite or Jairanian, Patenemheb is less inclined to join Samir and Ala’Ihys in their approach.
Perception to spot unusual activity: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (7) + 10 = 17
Sense Motive to spot strange or dangerous behaviour: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (5) + 8 = 13
Your Perception notes nothing unusual - just a few lads chatting at an oasis.
Your Sense Motive prompts you to believe that trouble is brewing - potentially - but how things develop remain to be seen.
Red, who speaks Zadjite is alarmed and suspects Samir may be under unnatural influence, runs up as it becomes clear Samir seems to be about to start a combat.
Persuasion, to calm the Zadjites: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (13) + 5 = 18
After Samir's last statement, Red says loudly and clearly "Samir, enough, come away!"
Samir turns to Red and studies her with a bland expression, he then looks to the Zadjites and a sudden thought seems to occur to him.
The Zadjites do not seem overly alarmed in the slightest and generally they seem fairly bored by the entire exchange, except for the one speaking. But even he seems more intrigued by Tairin's beauty and less impressed by Samir's actions.
Then, speaking to the Zadjites in their own tongue, saysIn Zadjite:"Apologies good sirs. We have had a long and hard journey through the desert. Please be re-assured our intentions are peaceful."A strange grin is on his face.
He turns to the Zadjite on the ground who is watching Tairin.
In Zadjite:"Hearken to the woman; for she is a witch and if you should vex me further she shall put a spell upon you..."
At Samir's words the guards seem to be a bit nonplussed and move back a bit from Red. Meanwhile, the nomads who had been watching with interest now move back with a somewhat strange nervousness.
The merchants in the third company seem to be intentionally ignoring all that is going on; however, the Zadjite's who were gaming now stop their game to look up at you with renewed interest.
The one Samir was speaking to glances between him, Red and Tairin - studying you all carefully.
He speaks to Tairin.
In Yar-Amonite:"Are you this water-rat's mistress?" he asks, but without waiting for an answer, he continues "if so, I would advise you to put a leash on your dog, for I have little patience for his mouth," he says with a courteous voice and a gracious bow; yet his eyes are cold and calculating as he glances at Samir out of the corner of his eye, his gaze flicking to Red as he attempts to ascertain if she is indeed a witch, or some other dark priestess from Yar-Ammon.
Sense Motive DC 15:You believe that the Zadjite who is talking has deduced that Tairin is a noble woman from Yar-Ammon; clearly he can tell Red and Tairin are from that nation, and he knows - or at least guesses - that Samir is from Nabistis.
However; as Tairin has been more Diplomatic and Red more direct, you also suspect he believes that Tairin is the leader of the company via her title/birthright and that Red is likely some sort of priestess to a dark god of goddess of Yar-Ammon.
Even so; he's not overly worried about Samir at this point - clearly a culture that values the lash and understands slavery is one that assumes that Samir is either a slave or a mercenary; yet either way, if given a direct order from his mistress he shall surely back down.
Samir says nothing now, watching the Zadjite in front of him; squaring up to subtly, his hand still casually resting on his sword hilt.
Tairin was concerned with Samir's agenda regarding these men, yet she held her tongue and simply looked at him with her deep, dark eyes, hoping to still/stay any unwise action he may have planned. I would like to rest and not have to fight again! Her thoughts stirred with a little frustration brought on by the heat fatigue.
Then the man with whom Samir had been speaking in the Zadjite tongue addressed her in her native tongue.
She smiled upon hearing its cadence before listening keenly to the words and meaning. Tairin then replied in her own tongue; her voice lowering to a discreet and pleasant timbre,
Tairin was concerned with Samir's agenda regarding these men, yet she held her tongue and simply looked at him with her deep, dark eyes, hoping to still/stay any unwise action he may have planned. I would like to rest and not have to fight again! Her thoughts stirred with a little frustration brought on by the heat fatigue.
Then the man with whom Samir had been speaking in the Zadjite tongue addressed her in her native tongue.
Sense Motive (DC 15): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (7) + 5 = 12
He clearly sees you as a some lovely woman who has few guards that, if he desired, he could either seduce or outright capture to have as a prisoner.
Unfortunately, it seems like he is interested in you, but seems to have little respect for you as a person.
She smiled upon hearing its cadence before listening keenly to the words and meaning. Tairin then replied in her own tongue; her voice lowering to a discreet and pleasant timbre
The man gives you an amused - almost condescending - look at your declaration and then responds.
"Well met, Tairin, daughter of Chefren of Amenti," he says with a smug voice.
"I am Azizbek of the House Demir," he adds.
His eyes travel over Tairin for a moment and though he seems eager to push the issue a bit more aggressively, it seems that the mention of a noble family from Yar-Ammon - though he may not totally believe it at this time - is enough to mollify him.
"Why not take your dog here," he says with a nod of his head to Samir "and go water your beasts."
"You and I can speak more when you've rested... and bathed..." he says with a knowing leer.
The other men have gone back to their dice as the man Tairin is speaking to continues to stand before and gives her a leer and then waits to hear her response.
Samir has stiffened by Tairin's side and says nothing; waiting to see will be decided.
Then, speaking to the Zadjites in their own tongue, says ”Blah, blah, blah"
'This will be interesting, Samir never did well with a lot of different people giving him orders. He tended to go with his baser instincts. I wonder what he will do here.’ Looking from Red to Tairin, then to the arrogant man speaking to Tairin in her own language. Ala’Ihys steps close behind his friend, and positioning himself so as few as the slavers could see his lips as possible, he asks. ”So, what, my friend, is the plan? And is it worth pissing these two off? Win or lose, we have to travel with them once were done.” He then looks over Samir’s shoulder watching the slavers attentively.
Samir doesn't take his hand of his sword hilt, he seems to be waiting for a response from someone first, but he glances at you and mutters to you.
"We did badly after that demon monster in the sands in my mind; nothing to show for it but a few trinkets and a slave."
He growls low in his throat.
"My blade is thirsty for the blood from some of these Zadjite whoresons - and besides, they will have little need of their coin after they have been slain, eh?" he adds, confident that the plan is now completely clear.
All the Zadjite folk - but for one talking to Tairin - have gone back to their dice game. They seem oblivious or uninterested in Samir's threatening posture - and pretty much all of you.
All the Zadjite folk - except for the one talking to Tairin - have all have gone back to their dice game. They seem oblivious or uninterested in Samir's threatening posture - and pretty much all of you.
However, you believe this is because their natural tendency is toward Decadent or Degenerate - this cultural nuance suggests they are heavily inclined to look down on anyone not of their own people; in short, they are so arrogant against those not of their culture that they don't even consider the possibility that you could be a real threat; you're so far beneath them that the idea that you would be able to harm them seems ridiculous to them.
Of course, whether or not they are right remains to be seen...
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Poison would look good on your lips, Jackal. The unspoken thought made Tairin smile and she used that smile to portray a pleasantness toward the leering filth standing before her. Even though he could only make out the smile through the gauzy veil, it was enough.
"The men have watered our beasts and they are settled. I thank you for the gentle concern. I was wishing to cleanse some of this sand and dust from my skin and so I happily approve of your suggestion to bathing. It was a pleasure meeting you, Azizbek of House Demir. Now, I must return to my people. May your own respite be invigorating,"
Tairin inclined her head gracefully, even though she was certain she was of higher station than the dirty Jackal before her. When she lifted her face, she allowed her expressive dark eyes to convey an amiability she was not feeling toward him.
Then looking to Samir and Ala'lhys behind him, she added in Sushranite, "Come along. We should rest and take the water while the sun is still hot," hoping her words were enough to sway Samir from any rash undertakings in the moment.
Then looking to Samir and Ala'lhys behind him, she added in Sushranite, "Come along. We should rest and take the water while the sun is still hot," hoping her words were enough to sway Samir from any rash undertakings in the moment.
At this time the party will then retreat to aid Sefu in setting up the camp.
There they will rest and get water.
Bjoern will looks around and try to barter for some hot weather gear.
This sun is cooking my head, but alas, there must be a better way!
Gathering the waterskin he sits down next to Tairin and holds it to her.
"Mistress. You do know more about this world. How far till we reach the next city. I crave a roof over my head and, please do not laugh, a bath!"
Red returns to the others following Samir and keeping an eye on him, being disturbed by his strange and dangerous behavior and suspicious he may have been supernaturally influenced.
Red rejoins the group just in time to hear Bjoern's last statement, to which she replies "It is not funny at all Bjoern. Another week in the desert and our body odour will be more dangerous than our weapons. Another visit to The Wet Embrace would be ideal, but not to be, sadly. A wondrous place where I had rather more fun than you did big guy."
For the time being, Patenemheb will tend to the camels, ensuring that there are no festering wounds or ailments untreated.
Tairin inclined her head gracefully, even though she was certain she was of higher station than the dirty Jackal before her. When she lifted her face, she allowed her expressive dark eyes to convey an amiability she was not feeling toward him.
"Take your time, little flower. Then, when you have cleansed yourself properly, return to me, for my men and I shall be celebrating this night with hot meat and good drink. Your presence would make it all the finer..." he says with what he might assume is a flirtatious wink, but it comes off more like a grotesque leer.
Then looking to Samir and Ala'lhys behind him, she added in Sushranite, "Come along. We should rest and take the water while the sun is still hot," hoping her words were enough to sway Samir from any rash undertakings in the moment.
Samir's hand tightens on his sword hilt, but it relaxes and he bows before you and follows you much like a retainer or a slave might. As this attitude is not customary for Samir, you gather he is doing all he can to make sure that the Zadjites know you are in charge and he is but a humble servant so as not to cause you any dishonor...
When you have returned to your campsite he looks at them and shakes his head and spits in their direction, though they cannot see him.
He then speaks quietly to Tairin -
Sense motive, Samir: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (5) + 6 = 11
Sense motive, Zadjites: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (10) + 6 = 16
KS Arkarna, influence on Samir: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (8) + 13 = 21
Spellcraft, influence on Samir: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (11) + 13 = 24
Sense Motive on Samir - it's hard to say (especially given your roll) but you'd wager his issue is that he seems to have a personal grudge with these people. You don't know, but you suspect, Samir simply dislike Zadjite folk in general, though you don't really know why... and of course, you may be wrong.
On the Zadjites - All the Zadjite folk - except for the one talking to Tairin - have all have gone back to their dice game. They seem oblivious or uninterested in Samir's threatening posture - and pretty much all of you.
However, you believe this is because their natural tendency is toward Decadent or Degenerate - this cultural nuance suggests they are heavily inclined to look down on anyone not of their own people; in short, they are so arrogant against those not of their culture that they don't even consider the possibility that you could be a real threat; you're so far beneath them that the idea that you would be able to harm them seems ridiculous to them.
Of course, whether or not they are right remains to be seen...
Your Spellcraft and Arcana checks lead you to believe he is not under a supernatural compulsion - at least; if he was, you think you would have seen evidence of it by now. In short, you think he simply has a personal grudge against these people - but you doubt it's because of supernatural issues.
For the time being, Patenemheb will tend to the camels, ensuring that there are no festering wounds or ailments untreated.
"So two questions. What was that all about and is it over?" He looks over his shoulder where the Zadites are camped.
Samir looks beyond him and his eyes narrow as he stares at them.
"I don't like Zadjite folk," he says a bit too abruptly.
"As for it being over? That remains to be seen..." he says, and offers a nod to Tairin, clearly waiting to see what she will say before acting.
"Or will there be wet-work to do tonight?"
A dark, wolfish smile graces his lips as he continues to stare at the Zadjite camp.
"They say they have meat and drink - let them sot themselves and when they are overcome with their drink then they shall be easier to slay this night...." he says with a grim voice, almost as if he is talking to himself.
Then he turns to Ala.
"But nay - we must not let them drink overmuch, eh? For I would relish the taste of something more than dried fruit and naught but stale water to wet my mouth this night," he adds with a bit more lighthearted tone to his voice.
Bjoern will first approach the Khazistani trader´s, hoping one of them is able to speak one of his languarges.
Still angry from the leering face from the Zadjite nomads and so his choice is simple.
He bows in front of them and first tries to speak with them in Lamuran, then in Susrahnite.
"Well met. I can see that you are merchants and traders. I will try my luck for some new clothing. Maybe you have something more suited than what I have? And maybe some other things."
Once Patenemheb has checked the camel's health to his satisfaction, he pats Mehys affectionately and chuckles softly.
At this rate, you shall bear a veterinarian aloft. A man must indeed be adaptable away from civilisation.
Still in good humour, he walks over to the Khazistani traders that he saw earlier.
Ah, Bjoern speaks to one already., he notes.
Hearing Bjoern try different languages, he will say to Bjoern quietly in Susrahnite:
"Bjoern, should you require a common tongue, I can provide it."
"Well met. I can see that you are merchants and traders. I will try my luck for some new clothing. Maybe you have something more suited than what I have? And maybe some other things."
The merchants seems a bit confused at first at the Lamuran tongue, but one of them quickly responds in the Susrah tongue and greets Bjeorn.
"Ah - you are northman, yes?" he asks, his accent thick and his words clumsy - nevertheless, he was easy enough to understand.
"You seek clothes good for hot days? We have many clothes to sell - and maybe other things... We can sell, yes - how much clothes you want?" he asks.
"Bjoern, should you require a common tongue, I can provide it."
Hearing Paten the man turns to him.
"Ah! You be from Yar-Ammon, eh? You want clothes to buy? Or maybe other things?" he asks, continuing to speak in the Susrah tongue.