Anhur scoffs at the idea of being the women's porter for random goods they want to loot. "What would you have us take? The rugs? Foolish is the man who carries rugs across the desert with his own legs." Anhur says, spitting in the sand. "Leave it."
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She was tempted to throw her dagger at Anhur and test his reflexes. yet, somehow she refrained and took a deep breath.
"I did not say to take the rugs. Take what you will as will the rest of us and we leave the remainder here to the sands. If neither of you care to assist in moving the heavier items, even though you both have the strength to do this task, then so be it. I have no more to say on the matter."
Tairin bent down and took the crude map and folded it neatly inside her pack. The coin had been divided up in the evening before they had retired or took watch and her portion was safely stowed in the pack as well. Taking one of the guard's scimitars she secured the sheathe to her belt.
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The companions ponder to do with the gear. During that time, an appraise check is made on the dagger –
You are surprised when studying it. The gold inlay on it is not, as you assumed, gold; in fact, it burnished copper with a gold inlay over it that chips off with your fingernail. Further, the fine craftsmanship of the hilt (which seemed like ivory) as, in fact, a specially lacquered wood. The wood is nothing remarkable; you’d guess it may be pine, in fact, but the lacquer makes it shine as if it were ivory. The metal itself is fairly solid iron.
Certainly it’s a functional weapon, but you can tell someone took a metal dagger, removed the hilt and replaced it with the current one – its chief function seems to be to appear more impressive than it is; the same is true of the golden metal.
You’d wager that while a normal dagger might be about 2 gold pieces; you could probably re-sell this blade for about 5 gold pieces to someone who was willing to pay a little more for trinket that seems far more impressive looking than it is in fact.
At this time the companions seem to be eager to press on. Therefore, they take what they can from the camp that they deem to be important and then they set out.
Making a relatively decent pace you note that as the road tacks more to the south east that the lands seem to be more filled with scrub brush, but still to the north is the wide waste of broad, arid sands and rocks.
As you walk you see the land to the north of the road dip somewhat into a low-lying valley flanked with some rocky outcrops on the western ridge. This valley is about half a mile north of the road, but you can make it out with ease as there is activity there.
The dry gorge which had been meandering near to the road seems to open into the western part of the valley. You can’t see more than that at this angle. However, you’re at least able to see that on the northern floor of the valley are openings like doors and windows cut into the stone rocks on the northern side of the valley.
You can make out movement in the valley, but you cannot see details enough to gauge much about what is happening.
Glancing across the road to the south, perhaps a mile or so, you can see two figures in the distance with a small herd of goats between them seeking for food among the scrub.
At this time the sun is becoming hot and you’re starting to feel the burden of its heat upon you. Further, it is near to noon time and having the chance to eat might be good, even if you do not seek to stop here specifically.
As you consider your options you see a lone figure standing on the path watching you at a distance.
The figure says nothing but lifts something to his mouth – in a moment you hear the sound like the noise from a horn.
The figure then turns and seems to be studying your approach, but does nothing else.
"I fear that figure just raised an alarm. Not good. We should move toward the village."
"Moving toward the village seems indicated. The horn may signal no more than somebody is coming. Time will tell."
Anhur brushes off the figure. "That man's business is not our own; not yet at least. Let us find shelter with the goat men."
Later, as they walk, Anhur breaks the silence. "I think we should discuss our friend, the priest."
"His name was Bahram Khan. When we met him he was suspiciously friendly and kept insisting Tairin and I eat or drink something he offered. We didn't trust him and thought he may have been trying to poison or drug us. he is some sort of big wig in Belthaar, I think Tairin knows more than I do about which religion he was involved in. It seems he was murdered for his staff. Maybe it is made of something valuable, more likely it is sacred to his cult. It could be enchanted, but I couldn't spot anything when I saw it on him. I could have missed something, but I am almost certain there were no spells cast on it when I saw it. His gear indicates he was wealthy but wanted to look even wealthier. I think the thing that tells us most is the staff was worth killing for. The killer took the staff but left the gold."
As your party advances toward the village the lone figure on the road seems to regard you with some curiosity but no sign of animosity. As you walk you notice a group of folk come from the slope leading to the valley as if they are coming up to meet you.
You can see that they are lightly armed with some short spears and small hand axes. A few of them have short bows hung over their backs, but they don’t seem threatening as much as prepared to defend themselves from a fight.
As you approach they spread into a wide semi-circle around you on the road. The man who stood on the road with the horn is at a short distance, but he does not seem to pay much attention to you at this point.
As the men who have come up from the village move casually around you a medium-sized, bearded man with piercing bright eyes and a nose curved like the hawk’s beak studies you for a moment, then steps forward from the others.
”Greetings, travelers, I am Mirwais Razak,” he says with a deep, booming voice, his tone friendly as the others behind watch you thoughtfully.
”You have strayed from the main road to our humble village. How can we be of service to you?”
Later, as they walk, Anhur breaks the silence. "I think we should discuss our friend, the priest."
She wondered how much of the prior conversations, in regard to Bahram Khan, Anhur and Bjoern had paid attention to. Tairin listened as Red gave summary of their interaction with the priest. When the witch healer was done, Tairin asked patiently, "What is it you would like to discuss in particular, Anhur?"
------------------------------
As than man stepped forward, Tairin took him to be the leader of the villagers. She lowered the veil from around her nose and mouth and she smiled at the man and surrounding villagers.
In Susrahnite, she addressed him,
"Greetings, Master Razak. I am Tairin of Yar-Ammon and my companions and I are travelling to Belthaar. We mean your village no harm. The sun has grown too hot and we thought to stop to eat and rest till the heat has passed and we can continue forward. May we take shelter in your village for a short time?" And then after a moment's pause, Tairin added, gesturing in the direction of the road, "Is the man with the horn there one of your people?"
Anhur nodded to what the first woman had to say, and when the other asked, he obliged. "I thought at first he was a paid assassin sent to kill a priest. But if he worked for money, he would not have left so much of it behind. I have only known two other reasons that men kill so thoughtfully: for survival, and for belief. And I do not think this hunter was in danger." Anhur tapped his spear with his free hand and continued, "The rugs and the dagger were fakes. I think this priest was maybe also a fake. Perhaps the staff was real, and the man who killed him knew." Having spoken his peace, Anhur fell into silent thought.
--------------------------------
Anhur stood silently and kept his eyes on the road and on the man standing in it with the horn.
Bjoern stands still and let´s Tairin do the talking, knowing just to well that a giant barbarian in their midst, bristling with weapons, is not the best way to sooth the fear of strangers.
In Susrahnite, she addressed him,
"Greetings, Master Razak. I am Tairin of Yar-Ammon and my companions and I are travelling to Belthaar. We mean your village no harm. The sun has grown too hot and we thought to stop to eat and rest till the heat has passed and we can continue forward. May we take shelter in your village for a short time?" And then after a moment's pause, Tairin added, gesturing in the direction of the road, "Is the man with the horn there one of your people?"
The man glances at Tairin with a cocked head as he listens.
"But of course, I and my people are only too delighted to do business with courteous folk such as yourself," he says with a wide smile.
He glances at the man at the road to the man with the horn, then turns back to Tairin.
"But of course! That is my brother Khalid," he says. However, the men next to him seem eager to move away from the road at this time in general and you do not blame them as the wind is continuing to blow harshly from the north now and dirt and grit are skittering around the path and making things less than comfortable.
"Come, let us journey down below where we can find somewhere more comfortable to speak," and he gestures expansively to the valley area.
Given that this was your plan initially it is no surprise that your company has decided to travel down into the valley.
There you are treated to the site of a rather broken and jagged cliff on the northern part of the valley. There are clearly carved entrances in the stone - some have cloth awnings hanging over them, others are less elaborate, looking merely like a carved cave opening. You do notice that all of the entrances have wooden doors behind them; so that the villagers can bar the openings to their homes.
On the western side of the valley near the cliff base you see a small depression in the ground where there looks like plentiful water might have fallen from a place above the cliffs; but for now the depression is barely full, though even the amount there is more than enough to satisfy the needs of this village and any who would pass by with relative ease - yet at one point you would wager it might have had far more water within it.
Mirwais brings you all down to a wide place by the water with a square tarp resting on several polls has been erected. There are clearly folk sitting there chatting among themselves until they see you approach, at which point they stand and greet you with some enthusiasm - offering you small items of little worth for sale; mainly food and other meager trinkets, but nothing remarkable.
The noonday sun is shining hot above you; getting beneath the cover of the tarp-like pavilion is more comfortable, but the wind blowing above causes Mirwais and some of his folk to peer at the northern cliffs with some dark frowns.
Even so, he turns back to you all.
"We are pleased to meet folk who travel so far abroad. No doubt you will be likely be moving on to the city to the south-east; perhaps even as far as the coast," he adds solicitously.
"Yet now you are here."
"How long do you wish to stay? And though our meager services may seem uncultured and rustic to such folk as yourselves, we should be only too pleased to sell you those things that you desire when you are ready to travel to your next destination."
"Yet if you see nothing here which tempts your fancy, how can we aid you better?" he continues, clearly in the tone of a polite businessman looking to make a deal with potential customers.
Anhur tapped his spear with his free hand and continued, "The rugs and the dagger were fakes. I think this priest was maybe also a fake. Perhaps the staff was real, and the man who killed him knew." Having spoken his peace, Anhur fell into silent thought.
Tairin pondered Anhur's words for a time, and then she finally spoke, "There was artifice and I am uncertain why he was so eager to have us travel with him. Those were mercenaries in his employ and no mere acolytes. Perhaps the true owner of the staff was a High Priest of Baal-Khardah. And if we discover the staff, then we will know more. Perhaps the killings were some reckoning. There may be more answers in Belthaar."
------------
Mirwais brings you all down to a wide place by the water where a square tarp resting on several poles has been erected. There are clearly folk sitting there chatting among themselves until they see you approach, at which point they stand and greet you with some enthusiasm - offering you small items of little worth for sale; mainly food and other meager trinkets, but nothing remarkable.
Tairin warmly smiled at each villager and upon each offering; greeting them openly. If a lovely bangle caught her eye, she offered the seller coin, careful not to show all her present wealth.
The noonday sun is shining hot above you; getting beneath the cover of the tarp-like pavilion is more comfortable, but the wind blowing above causes Mirwais and some of his folk to peer at the northern cliffs with some dark frowns.
"Master Razak, why do you look at the northern cliffs with such concern?"
"We are pleased to meet folk who travel so far abroad. No doubt you will be likely be moving on to the city to the south-east; perhaps even as far as the coast," he adds solicitously.
"How long do you wish to stay? And though our meager services may seem uncultured and rustic to such folk as yourselves, we should be only too pleased to sell you those things that you desire when you are ready to travel to your next destination."
"Yet if you see nothing here which tempts your fancy, how can we aid you better?" he continues, clearly in the tone of a polite businessman looking to make a deal with potential customers.
Tairin kept her composure and was grateful for the tarp overhead; no longer feeling the midday sun's direct, blistering heat sapping her vigour.
"As I have mentioned, we are on the road to Belthaar. We only wish to stay until the sun begins its descent in the sky and weather permits. If you have cooked meat and lentils for purchase, we would gladly pay for them. I am happy to give you coin to simply enjoy the shade of the canopy here - or I can sing or dance, as pleasurable recompense when the heat lessens. We do not mean to burden you or your people for too long." Tairin smiled, hoping the village chief would allow them to rest for a little while.
"I do seek to know, have there been other travellers come this way recently? There were caravans travelling this way from Kharjah Pass and we have yet to cross paths with them, again. I believe they were headed to Belthaar as well."
She Who Knows politely greets the villagers. Aside from that, she sits down quietly beneath the tarp without saying anything further.
Anhur nodded at Tairin's conclusion and they walked the remainder of the way in silence.
During the talks with the villagers, Anhur remains silent. He eyes the food and wares silently, looking for something savory or matching to his robe. But he dares not buy anything without the help of the more civilized folk that seem to get along well with strangers.
"Master Razak, why do you look at the northern cliffs with such concern?"
The overly friendly smile mellows somewhat as Mirwais glances to the north and frowns.
"The north winds have been blowing strongly for several days; there may be bad storms coming..." says one of the men, but Mirwais waves his hand at the man and turns a friendly smile to Tairin.
"There are always strong winds from the north, as my esteemed cousin recalls," he says with a glance to the man who spoke, then turns back to Tairin "such things might cause issue with our goats, and this is something that troubles us, but it should not damper the spirit of you or your companions while you enjoy your brief visit with us on this fine day," he adds with a warm smile.
"As I have mentioned, we are on the road to Belthaar. We only wish to stay until the sun begins its descent in the sky and weather permits. If you have cooked meat and lentils for purchase, we would gladly pay for them. I am happy to give you coin to simply enjoy the shade of the canopy here - or I can sing or dance, as pleasurable recompense when the heat lessens. We do not mean to burden you or your people for too long." Tairin smiled, hoping the village chief would allow them to rest for a little while.
The man's eyes widen.
"Indeed! We have some lentils, yes - but mostly bread made from grain grown as far away as the illustrious Ghazor - very good quality! As for meat? We have goat meat, yes - if you wish, we are making kabob now; you are free to purchase some of the best food in all of Susrah," he adds expansively.
You can see that there are some small clay ovens in which the fine, toothsome smell of cooking flesh rises. Long strips of flatbread which has been baked over the top of the ovens are cooling on a thick, linen blanket near to you.
The food smells good, but without even need to check you can quickly see that any of the items offered to you are at least twice what you would pay in a fine town.
"I do seek to know, have there been other travellers come this way recently? There were caravans travelling this way from Kharjah Pass and we have yet to cross paths with them, again. I believe they were headed to Belthaar as well."
Mirwais nods his head.
"There are many caravans that stop here on the way to Belthaar. Yet we saw no large caravans in the past day or so. Only the errant wanderer passing through, but I would guess this is not what you are seeking," he adds.
"But for now; eat, drink, enjoy yourselves. When the sun begins to wane in the sky you will find the road straight and sure to Belthaar, I would wager. Until then, if you have anything you are seeking in particular, please let me know - I shall inquire with my people and see if I can find what you seek."
During the talks with the villagers, Anhur remains silent. He eyes the food and wares silently, looking for something savory or matching to his robe. But he dares not buy anything without the help of the more civilized folk that seem to get along well with strangers.
She Who Knows leans close to Anhur and asks quietly:-
"If you would like to buy something, I can ask for you, or I am sure Tairin will. Everything they are selling is double or more the price you will pay in a larger town however."
This is another example of She Who Knows treating her barbarian companions
as equals. She has never seemed particularly frightened of them either, which also seems a little odd.
"Indeed! We have some lentils, yes - but mostly bread made from grain grown as far away as the illustrious Ghazor - very good quality! As for meat? We have goat meat, yes - if you wish, we are making kabob now; you are free to purchase some of the best food in all of Susrah," he adds expansively.
You can see that there are some small clay ovens in which the fine, toothsome smell of cooking flesh rises. Long strips of flatbread which has been baked over the top of the ovens are cooling on a thick, linen blanket near to you.
The food smells good, but without even need to check you can quickly see that any of the items offered to you are at least twice what you would pay in a fine town.
"Smells fresh and good. How much will such a fine repast cost?"
Tairin of the Veils wrote:
"I do seek to know, have there been other travellers come this way recently? There were caravans travelling this way from Kharjah Pass and we have yet to cross paths with them, again. I believe they were headed to Belthaar as well."
Mirwais nods his head."There are many caravans that stop here on the way to Belthaar. Yet we saw no large caravans in the past day or so. Only the errant wanderer passing through, but I would guess this is not what you are seeking," he adds.
"Errant wanderer? A man with a bow travelling alone? He may be known to us from the post near the border. Tell us of him and where he went, please."
Bjoern leans to Tairin and speaks not loudly, but not in a whispering tone. "Food, water and maybe a pack animal. Also maybe the others want a piece of canvas. And maybe a brazier, to heat us in the cold nights."
"The kebob and flatbread enough for the four of us, a tarp, brazier and a pack animal, if you have one spare. If my companions require water, they will let you know, Master Razak. Please do tell us how much coin for these items?" Tairin smiled, waiting for the village leader's reply.
Bjoern leans to Tairin and speaks not loudly, but not in a whispering tone. "Food, water and maybe a pack animal. Also maybe the others want a piece of canvas. And maybe a brazier, to heat us in the cold nights."
Mirwais eyebrows raises in surprise at this request, but he says nothing at first.
"Smells fresh and good. How much will such a fine repast cost?"
He turns a glance from Bjoern to Red.
"Ah, for such courteous guests I can offer meals for all of you for the small sum of only one gold coin a piece," he adds with a broad and generous gesture.
"The kebob and flatbread enough for the four of us, a tarp, brazier and a pack animal, if you have one spare. If my companions require water, they will let you know, Master Razak. Please do tell us how much coin for these items?" Tairin smiled, waiting for the village leader's reply.
Mirwais strokes his beard thoughtfully.
"To have a brazier seems an odd request, but who am I to refuse such honorable clients?" he says.
"We have one that may be sold - it does not seem overly ornate, but it is certain that it is well-weathered and sturdy. Further, it is bronze besides, and such metal is not easy to come by in our humble residence," he adds.
"Yet for such kind folk as you we may be willing to part with it for only twenty gold pieces," he adds with a friendly smile.
"As for a tarp? Why - surely we have many heavy cloths that you are free to sample. A wide, durable cloth to keep out the dust and grit for four worthy travelers... such a thing would only cost you a mere thirty gold pieces, for it is hand-made and well woven. Naturally you would have your own gear to erect it and secure it should you wish to make it a base of operations in the wild..."
"As for a pack animal? It is possible we may have one for sale, but they are often needed to carry the massive amount of supplies from the city to the east and our homes. If you would seek to purchase one of our small mules, this could be arranged, but I fear it may not be more costly as such beasts are as dear to us as kin," he adds with a somewhat sheepish shrug, as if embarassed that he is admitting that even he knows you will think that the price will be high.
For now he lets the company decide what they would like and leans back comfortably.
"Errant wanderer? A man with a bow travelling alone? He may be known to us from the post near the border. Tell us of him and where he went, please."
The man who had spoken before scowls at this comment, and Mirwais's eyes narrow. He shoots his relation a glance, then turns back to Red.
"We saw no such man traveling near to here," he says with a strangely curt voice.
"Yet you say you are friends with such a man. If so, please tell us; should we see him, we shall surely pass him on a message for you," he adds as his eyes move slowly over each of you as he waits for a response.
Anhur considers the make of the herders, their constitution and disposition. He wonders, in his mind, how such people could stay alive with such demands, but speaks nothing of it and dismisses the oddity as "civilized" behavior; northerners seemed especially hesitant to kill each other, even in the face of insult.
The companions continue to make polite conversation, though it is clear that they seem to distrust these merchants and would rather not do business with them, except for buying minor items to keep up the pretense of courtesy.
As they debate the sounds of the winds blowing over the cliff face seems to take on an almost aggressive tone.
As the sun grows higher in the sky the men seem to grow a bit more agitated as your company continues to linger; this seems to inconsistent with the attitude of folk during the noon time who often become more relaxed or mellow as the heat waxes, generally using this time to rest in the shade or even nap so they can move on during the night.
Despite the agitation of the men, Mirwais seems to be rather unaffected by their attitude and remains jovial and somewhat congenial with you. When you ask him about the others he merely brushes it off as a mere nothing, but you suspect he’s not being wholly frank with you.
Tairin listened and called upon her patience with the man and his exaggerated prices.
"Master Razak, we will take the food and small cloth you have to spare as shade against the sun."
Anhur leans closely to Red and whispers to her, sensing that she is less likely to interpret it as a threat than the others.
"Tell her we will need some wood for tonight's fire if we wish to continue on the road this day."
Hearing Anhur's whispered words to Red, who was standing beside her, Tairin added promptly, "And enough fire wood to last through the night. Thank you."
Bjoern will also vote for staying at the village during the hottest part of the day and continue onwards afterwards, maybe walking a bit through the early night.
She Who Knows wrote:
"Errant wanderer? A man with a bow travelling alone? He may be known to us from the post near the border. Tell us of him and where he went, please."The man who had spoken before scowls at this comment, and Mirwais's eyes narrow. He shoots his relation a glance, then turns back to Red.
"We saw no such man traveling near to here," he says with a strangely curt voice.
"Yet you say you are friends with such a man. If so, please tell us; should we see him, we shall surely pass him on a message for you," he adds as his eyes move slowly over each of you as he waits for a response.
She Who Knows is going to try and get the "relative" who mentioned the errant wanderer alone, or at least out of sight of his bossy relative, and see if she can get him to open up about the wanderer. If needed:-
She Who Knows is going to try and get the "relative" who mentioned the errant wanderer alone, or at least out of sight of his bossy relative, and see if she can get him to open up about the wanderer. If needed:-
You have a short time to question him before other villagers move close and stifle his information, but - supposedly - there was a wanderer who arrived sometime near midnight last night who had a long bow. The wanderer met the lone sentry near the path from the road to the village and bribed the sentry for a place to sleep by the fire and some waterskins, then arose at dawn and left.
The belief was that the bribe was to prevent other villagers from knowing he was in the village spending the night and so better avoid the wily blandishments of the village leader, Mirwais.
Mirwais, naturally, was annoyed that one of his sentries would earn the rewards for such haggling without sharing the loot and so ordered the man to help guard the goat-herders on the trail earlier that morning.
After some discussion the companions unanimously back Tairin’s suggestion to wait until the sun passed its zenith and then head out. The party also believed it was wise to add to their list of supplies some wood and food for the night, as well as some heavy cloth for erecting a crude shelter to huddle in. While this would not provide much protection from the cold, it would be useful when the wind was blowing hard on them or the sun shined too bright.
Therefore they leave the village at roughly 3:00 PM and head out, traveling quickly on the path. Once it is clear that the companions will not buy more gear the villagers seem eager to see them go; clearly not happy to have folk who they may be compelled to share resources with without being compensated.
As they leave the sound of the wind is louder and grows more eerie, but thus far it is merely a cold, melancholy noise.
During the night when you set up your camp you are treated to the sight of flecks of lightning to the north-east; the dry air there must be creating electrical storms in the night. Luckily you are far from this threat.
When dawn comes you do what you can to get ready and then you proceed on to Belthaar, journeying for some time after having your morning meal and doing what you can to prepare for the day, then you head out for your journey.
You would gauge that you are roughly three or four miles from Belthaar when you notice a caravan approaching you, or so it would seem that it is approaching you.
In reality the caravan has halted about a hundred feet from you for there seems to be some sort of altercation between the drivers of the caravan and their goods – specifically slaves. You see a line of young men who are shackled together being forced to walk behind some covered carts with merchandise that the caravan drivers do not wish to spoil in the heat. However, one of the men has fallen ill and collapsed and the drivers are working to motivate him to move forward.
The methods of motivation or brutal and this is the cause of consternation – it is one thing to spur a slave onward with the lash, but another thing to do so until the property is destroyed, for that would lower the total value of the sale. Two guards are debating this point while the other slaves who are shackled near to them do what they can to move away from the argument, though they are not very successful in creating distance as they are still bound.
When you approach the caravan guards turn and regard you; but the eyes of the one with the lash linger long and thoughtfully on the Tairin and Red.
He looks at the Northman in your company with little regard, turns to study the Southern Barbarian with open contempt, as if not sure who is the leader of your group.
Finally he settles on Tairin as she seems the most affluent of the group – yet, given that you are on foot and traveled through sandy wastes without a chance to change your gear or features he is not overly impressed by any of your status and instead looks at you as a potential prize.
He turns to the man who he was arguing about.
”If the scum cannot walk well then slay him outright now – but do not be overly concerned with the loss of coin; it seems the gods have favored us with potential new replacements,” he says with a gleam in his eye and you’re not sure if he’s being serious or not in his comment as the wind from the north is blowing more fiercely and the sound makes it difficult to hear very well.
The other guard looks at you all, his eyes narrow.
”Are you freeman, or do you serve a lord in the city yonder?” he asks, hesitating a bit, as if uncertain on if it would be wise to assail another man’s property...
At this time you can see six more guards move out from the caravan to support these two. They are all armed with daggers or clubs. Some have scimitars and one has a bolas dangling from his waste. They do not look like they have armor on, but you’re not sure – it’s possible that they may have light leather armor under their linen robes.
What do you do?
When you approach the caravan guards turn and regard you; but the eyes of the one with the lash linger long and thoughtfully on the Tairin and Red.
He turns to the man who he was arguing about.
”If the scum cannot walk well then slay him outright now – but do not be overly concerned with the loss of coin; it seems the gods have favored us with potential new replacements,” he says with a gleam in his eye and you’re not sure if he’s being serious or not in his comment as the wind from the north is blowing more fiercely and the sound makes it difficult to hear very well.
She Who Knows stares back at the guard, calmly and coldly, and is about to speak when she stops herself and speaks instead quietly to her companions, saying:-
"Tairin or someone else had best speak. If I say anything to this scum it will be something that leads to tears and blood."
”If the scum cannot walk well then slay him outright now – but do not be overly concerned with the loss of coin; it seems the gods have favored us with potential new replacements,” he says with a gleam in his eye and you’re not sure if he’s being serious or not in his comment as the wind from the north is blowing more fiercely and the sound makes it difficult to hear very well.
The other guard looks at you all, his eyes narrow.
”Are you freeman, or do you serve a lord in the city yonder?” he asks, hesitating a bit, as if uncertain on if it would be wise to assail another man’s property...
Whether the man meant to take them for his slaves, she was not certain, but one day he would pay for such a comment and even moreso if he attempted to forcefully shackle her - that day would arrive sooner.
She heard Red's quiet words to her and the males of their party. Gracefully/artfully unwinding the veil from her nose and mouth, Tairin pushed it back a little so her beautiful face could be seen well enough by the men. Placing a pleasant smile upon her face and speaking with a honeyed tongue, she replied, "Greetings, sirs. We are free citizens journeying to Belthaar upon personal invitation from our good friend, High Priest Bahram Khan, who resides in the city. These are my people. He is expecting us and I would not like to tarry so as to remain in his good graces. Our beasts of burden fell ill and died along the road, here, and then we have had to travel by foot, as you can see. A great inconvenience to be sure and one I will rectify once we have entered Belthaar. May we pass summarily? I am eager to enter the city and refresh myself before reuniting with High Priest Khan," looking to the lead guard man who had stared at her; pleasant smile still upon her face, hoping the mention of such a noble man from the city would grant them some form of privilege or at least permit them to continue without further issue.
Anhur considered the men and their demeanor. Normally he would bare his teeth in the metaphorical, and perhaps even literal sense. But these men's number was many, and they were not likely to be dissuaded by a few travelers with beads and knives. And so it was the weapon of cunning by which they would be defeated.
But Tairin had already begun.
While she spoke, Anhur ate. What might appear as a savage's trail snack to some was in fact a powerful alchemical agent, preparing him for any impending conflict. He washed it down with a drink from his waterskin and nodded as the woman concluded her tale. A brave story, but perhaps a bit far-fetched; Anhur wasn't the kind of man to get such an invitation, and neither was Bjoern, and they surely knew it.
"The invitation is for the lady and her company. We are her company."
She Who Knows listens to Tairin's honeyed words with mixed feelings thinking now that is why I left the diplomacy to Tairin. I was going to tell the vermin if he stated waving his whip around me I would hang him with it, castrate him and pluck out his eyes. That is really the way to handle this situation. Don't spoil it, keep quiet about plucking out his eyes no matter how much he deserves it. Leave the talking to more diplomatic people like Tairin. Or Anhur.
Bjoern looks at the caravan leader and understands just too well about his chuckles. But then he looks at the scantly armored guards and chuckles. Flexing his neck as if to prepare for battle he smiles wickedly. Quickly counting the guardians he is utterly calm and his eyes invite the leader to do something utterly stupid.
"Greetings, sirs. We are free citizens journeying to Belthaar upon personal invitation from our good friend, High Priest Bahram Khan, who resides in the city. These are my people. He is expecting us and I would not like to tarry so as to remain in his good graces. Our beasts of burden fell ill and died along the road, here, and then we have had to travel by foot, as you can see. A great inconvenience to be sure and one I will rectify once we have entered Belthaar. May we pass summarily? I am eager to enter the city and refresh myself before reuniting with High Priest Khan," looking to the lead guard man who had stared at her; pleasant smile still upon her face, hoping the mention of such a noble man from the city would grant them some form of privilege or at least permit them to continue without further issue.
The guards listen to Tairin, though barely sparing Anhur a glance as they have little patience for the southerner. However, when Tairin removes her veil all of you can almost see the more brutal of the guards mentally licking his lips at the possible coin selling such a pretty face would fetch.
Yet before such comments are made public the name “Bahram Khan” is mentioned to the thugs who now stand before you.
The reaction it inspires is not – perhaps – what was desired. At the sound of his name their faces break into a mixture of anger or amusement, the guard with the lash actually throwing his head back and laughing loudly and contemptuously.
”You are friends with him, eh? That miserable charlatan? Oh, that is too much,” he says with a sardonic mirth.
Even the more moderate of the guards is smiling grimly. He doesn’t take his eyes from your company, though.
”The bounty on him was fairly high, he may yet live and they may know his whereabouts; make sure you do not damage their ability to speak ere you take them – and try not to mark their faces if you are able,” he says to the others.
It seems, then, that this Priest you had met may not have been as sincere with his claims as he let on. Further, it seems that his actions may have provoked the ire of many of the residents of Belthaar, at least enough that his name is not a password to safety.
In any case, the slavers now seem confident that taking you will not trouble them so much and they look as if they’re ready to advance.
However, a sudden rumble echoes from the north and you’re all able to see that the sky has grown shrouded, almost black, with some foul obfuscation.
The north wind – which has been blowing more fiercely as the day has worn on – is now moving the sand of the northern wastes forward almost like a mountain of darkness that is sweeping down to you. The thunder you heard comes from, likely, the sparks of lightning that flicker through it, brought by either the static energy in the dry air, or perhaps the rage of the gods...
”Sandstorm,” cries one of the slavers in alarm.
”Piss on that! Kill the men before you but leave the women alive for questioning about the whereabouts of that miserable trickster Khan – try not to mark their faces, and be swift!” the leader of their gang bellows.
Tairin grimaced inwardly as her gambit fell short of its mark.
Seeing the looming cloud of sand and hearing the warning cry, Tairin turned to her companions and uttered, "Run! The carts may be our best chance of shelter! Cover your nose and mouth with what you can and protect your eyes." Lifting her veil back over her nose and mouth, Tairin turned, and, shielding her eyes, prepared to run toward the covered carts.
At this point the enemy elects to make their initiative as well...
Moves to Attack Anhur –
Moves to Attack Anhur –
Moves to Attack Bjeorn
Moves to Attack Bjeorn
Moves in front of the slaves to make sure they don’t try to use the storm as a means to escape
Moves around the slaves to the entrance to the of the wagons -
Moves to shelter behind wagon
Moves to shelter behind wagon
try to convert on Anhur –
Tries to convert on Bjeoen –
”Sandstorm,” cries one of the slavers in alarm.
”Piss on that! Kill the men before you but leave the women alive for questioning about the whereabouts of that miserable trickster Khan – try not to mark their faces, and be swift!” the leader of their gang bellows.
She Who Knows takes a five foot step away from the slavers and casts the mage armour spell on herself. She then extends a finger, pointing at the the leader, then after a pregnant pause and as the wind howls through her clothing and the black clouds, lightning and blown sand boil behind her like the coming of the apocalypse, speaks:-
"Take this one alive. He aspires to enslave The Red Seer, he should be given time to contemplate his folly."
His skin was parched and lips blistered. Arms and legs felt like they would shutdown at any moment, refusing to push or pull anything else.
But the man's dark eyes showed otherwise when he saw the group closing their own caravan - his muscles flexed as he prepared... Or hoped for... Something...
Then all hell broke loose as one of the chained slaves next to him went down under the exhaustion - "Gods damnn this..." - he tried to prop him up as best as he could but to no avail. Then came the lash.
The others just moved away as far as they could - he thought about it twice, and did the same, not before getting struck once or twice for good measure.
His look oozed hate in response, his fists flexed ready to strike, but fortunately the attention was momentarily shifted to the newcomers, and the confrontation with his gaolers (and probably his demise) was again postponed.
Round 1
Tairin pushes the veil from her mouth, her face pointed away from the oncoming sandstorm. Taking the scorpion whip from her belt, she let the barbed end unfurl to the sandy ground by her feet. Then taking a step sideways, she begins to sing, in raised voice, a haunting desert song one of her tutors had taught her as a girl, to inspire her companions to greater acts of courage with danger all around them.
A desert
Of sand and secrets
A Fountain
Which is revealed among the sands
The spring of my youth
gushes
and dances in a gust of wind
in colours
and voices
that were born from the desert
even if the sky of the moon
will rise
I shall not sit and shall not rest
My lips shall not run dry
If I sing to the desert.
Anhur suffered two wounds, but he did not fall. His spear thrust forth towards a guard and he didn't bother to pull it back, instead dropping it and producing two weapons as he whirled around behind. "Bear, behind them!"
,
The woman's song stirred his blood, and his spear struck true. He left it in the skewered guard.
The guards attack Björn, but the only one who manages to wound him barely manages to penetrate his armor.
Taking a step aside to flank he used his new scimitar to attack the flanked enemy.
Ac21
A fight..? - he pondered to himself, entertaining thoughts of freedom - Why would the next ones be any better than these? - he scolded himself, as he stared at the guard in front of him.
And then he heard it, above the growing winds and exhaustion of mind and body - that song... That amazing voice seemingly whispering just to him, urging him onward... To take a chance!
Anhur suffered two wounds, but he did not fall. His spear thrust forth towards a guard and he didn't bother to pull it back, instead dropping it and producing two weapons as he whirled around behind. "Bear, behind them!"
[dice=Spear]1d20+3+2+1, [dice=Damage]1d8+4+3+1
The woman's song stirred his blood, and his spear struck true. He left it in the skewered guard.
Red; hard to say about the sandstorm - you'd guess it's moving fast. It will likely be on you either the round the enemy acts, or the next one at least. Meanwhile; you're not sure who is the leader, you saw two men arguing. The more brutal of the two is Guard 8, who had to move around the slaves up to reach you. The second potential leader might be Guard 5; he's also in the same position of having to move around his people to get to you. However, you're not sure who is the formal leader; they both seemed to be giving orders, though.[/ooc]
The purple got screams in pain and dies to Bjeorn’s sword, the sound heard barely over the moving wall of sand and grit.
Meanwhile, the others move to attack.
Remains in place to Attack Anhur –
Remains to Attack Bjeorn
Moves to Attack Bjeorn and flank -
Moves to Attack Anhur and flank – suffers an AoO from Anhur as it moves by
Moves to Attack Anhur and flank -
The fighting is brutal as the slaves watch in either grim joy that you might slave their captors, or fear that they may be consumed by the storm.
Though they cannot move forward much, as they are shackled together, they do what they can to cluster near the wagons for some shelter.
Unfortunately none of the company has moved near enough to the slaves that it will matter much at this time, though that may change soon.
Looking up you can see the wall of sand is nearly upon you all, the stinging grit already making you fear it will damage you if you're in its path no matter what armor you might be wearing…
Thanks to his expertise no guard is able to land a solid blow.
He quickly attacks the orange enemy.
She Who Knows steps away from the slaver near her [a five foot step] and hits the purple slaver with the Slumber Hex, commanding:-
"You, sleep!"
Hedran wants to break his chains and rip the throat out of the slaver just in front of him, but the wall of sand bearing down on them is impossible to ignore.
-------
"Time to pay, you DOG!" - he growls, attempting to trip him.
====================
====================
Round 2
Tairin, feeling the might of the sandstorm just behind her, continues to sing her desert song, lifting her voice higher to be heard.
Ensuring she did not pierce her flesh with the barbed end of the scorpion whip, Tairin gracefully attempted acrobatic movements to get passed the closest guards (Orange and Lt. Blue) all the while singing her song.
Flicking her wrist, and raising her voice in song yet again, Tairin strikes at the lt blue guard, hoping the wind from the sandstorm would not detrimentally affect her aim.