It has been almost a week that the dreary little caravan has been winding it's way through Katapesh's hinterlands. The day is hot, and dry, and a warm breeze flares up now and again to swirl the dust around. There is not a cloud in the wide blue sky.
In short, it's a day like every other one so far.
Garavel the man who hired you is further towards the front of the waggon, just over the next rise. The slow day has left you near the back, wit the dust and the slower waggons.
”This heat is a good omen, that our travel will be successful, but damn it if it doesn’t make wearing this hard” Speaking to no in particular, Nasir Al’Issaf gestures down toward his heavy thick armor made of scales.
“I realize that we have been traveling together just about a week and I only know your names. Come let us share part of ourselves so that we can share in the whole-sale slaughter of the gnoll tribe promised to infest Kelmarane.
My name is Nasir Al’Issaf, and it is my intention to take back the town of Kelmarane from the monsters that have overrun it.”
Nasir looks around, eager to make friends with his new traveling companions.
Walking in line is a well tanned older human man. He is wearing sturdy high black boots, brown pants, and green cloak pulled tight to try to keep the dirt and dust from getting almost everywhere. His long grey hair is pulled back and braided to keep it from getting overly wind tossed. His face is covered with a shoufa type scarf, with blue eyes squinting as the dust swirls about.
Stopping for a brief moment, Thomdril lowers the shoufa that is covering his mouth and nose. This damned thing is suppose to keep the dust and grit out of the mouth... some good that did. Taking a small pull of water from his waterskin, Thomdril swishes the water around his mouth and spits it out along with the dirt that made its way in there. Looking at the caravan that would leave him behind, he finishes his brief water break and continues on filing back in line.
“We’ve been wondering for what seems a week now... I don’t know if Garavel knows where he is going, he seems to be wondering aimlessly.” Turning towards the person he fell in line next to; “Where are we heading next? I though this guy was going to help me get somewhere...”
Looking at the man he stepped next to; “Nasir is it? My name is Thomdril Merrilin. You mentioned the town of Kelmarane... This is the place I am seeking out... You said it was overrun by monsters? In my vision this place only appeared to be a ghosttown... What can you tell me of this gnoll tribe?”
Nasir fixes his sunken grey eyes on man in front of him, studying him. Does this man have what it takes to brave the wild? If he must have my back in battle I must get to know him more.
A smile forms on his weathered face.
Aye, its only a rumor, but everyone seems to think that the entire town is no longer a civilized place. It only makes sense though, a ghost town, devoid of humans civilization; of course that would attract those lawless monsters.
Whether or not the town is empty makes no difference to me. We are in the heart of the land, my friend. Out here, Katapesh rules. If we do not find gnolls in Kelmarane, we will find some on the way. Who knows, maybe even a tribe of displaced djinn may be in charge of Kelmarane.”
Nasir lets out a bellowing chuckle. “Tell me, have you been in a place such as this? You seem either ill prepared or impatient to get where we are going.”
Amori walks beside the rest of the stragglers, using his spear as a walking stick for the time being. Veiled and dressed in simple, but practical clothing, the slave smiles behind the cloth that masks his face.
"I am Amori. Just... Amori." He says softly. "While I don't exactly object to killing gnolls, I do wonder whether they'll be the only thing we encounter out here. As you say, Master Al'Issaf, out here, the desert rules."
He casts his gaze over the caravan before them. "Kelmarane is supposedly on a trade route to Osirion. It'll be quite important, if it's reopened. The real question I'm interested in, though, is what happened to Kelmarane and why it fell in the first place. Knowing that would help us know what we might face soon."
"Wait! Wait! Hold up!"
A redheaded half-elven woman hustles to catch up with the others, lugging with her several pieces of kit (mainly her weapons and shield, but there's a change of clothes sticking out of her backpack). "You're talking about Kelmarane? That's where I'm headed too! Who knows why it was overrun? Well, that's what I've been assigned here to find out--"
She stops. "...er, not sure I was supposed to say that, but, oh well." She grins and nods. "Anyways, name's Viridi."
Amori glances at the other half-elf, tilting his head slightly. "Assigned?" He inquires. She isn't a slave, I'm pretty sure. Thus, someone else must be interested. Maybe just the city, though why would they hire someone...?
"An honor to meet you, Mistress Viridi." Amori says, finally, giving no signs of his pondering through the veil he wears over his face. "But I suspect most of us are headed in that direction. Isn't that why Garavel hired us?"
Amori isn't telling something about his relationship to Garavel. He seems to hesitate around the word "hired."
Viridi's eyes find the fair-haired half-elf's and she pauses for a bit.
Aww. He's kinda cute--wait. What's wrong with the word 'hired'?
"I mean, I GUESS most of us are. But I've been wrong before. For all I know, someone's going to want to get off at the next stop or wander off somewhere else."
Amori chuckles dryly at that, his eyes sparkling above the cloth. "True enough, I suppose. I know for a fact that my goal is Kelmarane. I guess I shouldn't assume that anyone else's is..."
He brushes sweat from his forehead. Shelyn preserve us from this heat, though... and I thought Katapesh proper was hot.
A turban-wearing half-orc walks nearby, the red cloak he wears over studded armor fluttering a bit in the breeze. A large bow is strapped to his back, and a small axe rides on his hip. He spits at the mention of gnolls. ”Let the gnolls come. If we don’t kill them now, we’ll only have to kill them later.”
“Finally someone with a head on their shoulder! Well met my red cloak-wearing friend! You seem to be an accomplished warrior judging by that bow.”
Nasir unshoulders his greataxe strapped to his back, hefting the weapon up and down, almost effortlessly. He sheathes it again to his back and clasps the half-orc on the back.
“And what is your name friend?”
Thomdril shakes his head no as he responds to Nasir; “No, I am not from around here. I come from a city to the north called Zimar, it is part of the nation of Taldor. Impatient I might be, I have waited and searched long and far for my friend. This vision I received is the first tangible clue to finding her..”
With a flick of his wrist Thomdril quickly produces two blades, one in each hand, twirls them, and just as quickly makes them disappear; “I may not be the kind of warrior in battle our half-orc friend over there is, but I am precise where I cut and leave them bleeding out. I also have a skill set that might prove to come in handy whenever your axe there can’t cut something to death...”
Watching the spry half-elf catch up and eavesdropping in on her and the other half-elf’s conversation. “Amori, Viridi. I am Thomdril. It seems that one reason or another, hired or other” looking towards Amori. “we are all looking to get to Kelmarane.”
This is shaping up to be a good group of travelers. Some are even native to this wasteland, or so it seems.
"Most likely, yes." Amori replies, his voice somewhat amused. Does he suspect? Does it matter if he does? He muses silently. Not really. Just... I don't expect them to understand slavery as I do.
"A pleasure to meet you, Master Thomdril." He stops a moment, his eyes sweeping over the caravan again. "I'm no warrior, but I can handle myself in combat, to some degree or another. We'll have to see whether that is enough."
Turning to Nasir, Fulk says ”My name is Fulk. Fulk the Red, some call me. This bow was my father’s, before he fell to gnolls. I’ve been using it to kill them ever since.” the half-orc says, unconsciously reaching back to touch the bow.
Shiiru, a pale man with faint blue lines crossing his face walks along side, he looks up covering his face against the sun. Despite the long week of travel through the sands, he barely seems to have any dust or dirt on his clothes or skin. Just his shoes. In fact the dust flying through the air seems to almost part around him, leaving him alone entirely.
Shiiru listens to the others for sometime before finally speaking up, an incongruously deep voice accompanies his lithe frame, like a rumbling storm, "And I am Shuuri Gardelnem. While you may be wishing for a fight with the gnolls, I hope we can avoid all of that. I just want to find Kelmarane and what happened to those people. An uneventful trip would be perfect for me."
Nasir slowly looks over the group of people in front of him. It doesn’t matter much to me whether it’s gnolls or djinn in Kelmarane, and I don’t rightly know; but just the promise of killing Gnolls, maybe finding the one that ruined my life is enough for me. A disarming grin emerges on his face as he lets out of hearty and deep throated laugh.
“My new friends! We seem to be traveling together, at least for the time being. Know that you have my axe, Duststrider at your side. From here on out, you have a friend in Nasir Al’Issaf. Do not worry Shiiru, you have me to stand in front of you should we need it.”
As you crest the next rise you realise why this valley has the name it has, The Sultan's Claw.
The Caravan has come to a stop, forming a ring around a single black tree, leafless in the sun, and scarred black by fire. It's 5 branches resemble a hand grasping for the heavens.
Camels in a nearby pen prance in agitation, and a clutch of confused goats and livestock wander the grounds around the wagons. Perhaps a dozen men and women rush around the campsite, chasing down an animal or hastening toward the center of the cluster, near the Sultan’s Claw, with pails of water in their hands. One of the wagons is on fire!
Orange and red flames play around the top of a waggon, in contrast to the blue's and blacks it is painted, with moons and stars. A belch of flames comes from the front door.
As you move down towards the fire, a something caught on the wind crashes into Viridi, a half burned Harrow card. It is the Cyclone, signifying a force of destruction that tears through whatever it meets at the behest of an intelligent being. The card portends war, arson, and destructive plans.
As well as the men and women carrying buckets, 4 burley men are attempting to pull the nearest wagon away before it too catches fire; A red-headed halfling kneels next to two severely burned mercenaries who tried to enter the burning wagon; The middleaged human camel driver and his wife are doing their best to wrangle the panicking animals, but their efforts are quickly being overrun by the chaos of the situation;
The central flap of an elaborate tent flies open and a regal
woman steps out into the firelit night. "Douse that flame!" she shouts to the men surrounding the wagon before turning in your direction. Ah, Garavel! she says. "And just a moment later than the nick of time, as usual.
Looking specifically past her major domo and directly at you, Almah barks out a simple order before running off toward the fire: "Find some way to help!"
Amori looks at the black tree, verses of a song forming in his mind. A black claw piercing the heavens/crying out for affection long lost... The fire and Almah's shout, however, pulls his attention back to the present immediately, and he rushes to act. "Yes, Mistress Almah!" He says swiftly.
The half-elf slave dashes to the side of the men and women carrying buckets, immediately throwing himself in beside them and helping them to lift water to put out the fire. He is not mighty enough to help pull the nearby wagons away, nor is he especially talented with animals or healing. He is, however, used to reasonably hard labor, and this is surely that.
Smiling when he hears that he has Nasir’s axe to guard him. “I’m not sure where all of our skills lay, but being in it as a team will go a long way... as long as we remember we’re a team.”
Coming over the crest, Thomdril is amazed to see the sight of natural persistence. The fight of that tree is an inspiration. How can something like that fight to live out here in this wasteland. Hearing Almah’s voice and the sight of flames snaps him back to reality.
As Thomdril approaches he takes a quick look to make sure no one is inside of the wagon. If he doesn’t see anything, he jumps in line to help get more water to the wagon or he will begin to shovel sand onto the flames.
The familiar smell of fire forces an unpleasant memory on Nasir. He stares blankly ahead for a moment remembering a time when another wagon was aflame. They should have known it was coming, they brought on their own destruction consorting with monsters like that. Although I will carry with me the screams of my people as they burned long into the night, as a constant reminder.
Shaking out of his unpleasant memory, Nasir hastily makes his way to the men pulling the nearby cart out of the way of the impending fire. At least I may be able to help these people.
He grabs the cart with both hands and attempts to pull it out of the way. “Do not give up now friends, tap into your inner strength. With me now!”
=>6
=> 19
Shiiru stares at the Sultan's Claw as they make their way into the valley. As the agitation of the animals begins to grow, Shiiru looks agitated himself, glancing around himself furtively. When the call for help and fire finally comes, Shiiru is struck for half a moment stiff, They couldn't have followed . . .
After a moment or two, he pulls himself out of his stupor, then whistles a shrill note. A tiny sand cat leaps out of hiding and jumps to Shiiru's shoulder. He takes off immediately towards the fire, casting as he does, "Seru." One of the buckets lifts itself and starts working dumping water on the fire as Shiiru's finger directs.
I will say, I do realize that mechanically, mage hand is probably not the best action Shiiru could take, but I kinda felt it was more active and flavorfully appropriate for the situation, so I'm hoping it at least somewhat works out to help. But if not, well, we'll work with it.
When the cry goes up, Fulk looks around. ”Can anyone magically conjure water?” he asks, while looking for an empty bucket and, if necessary, a mundane water source.
Viridi's eyes widen in shock. The words of everyone else fade away into gibberish.
"Μια πυρκαγιά! Μην ανησυχείτε, θα το βάλω έξω!" She says, running to the fire with divine magic at her fingertips.
Nasir moves to help the men shift the wagon, but even with 5 of them, it is hard work, and it doesn't start to roll freely. On of the men, and older man shouts "Come on lads, put your backs into it!"
Everyone else moves to help extinguish the fire, via either mundane or magical means. Every little helps, and although the fire still burns fiercely, it is clear that your efforts are succeeding.
Amori dashes the sweat from his brow, but smiles behind his veil as the fire begins to fall. Turning back, he runs to the water buckets, pulling more of them onto the fire as best he can. "Well done! It's going out! Everyone work together now!" He calls, modulating his voice to harmonize with the sounds of the effort to put out the fire.
Nasir lets out a terrifying bellow as sweat beads down his forehead. He grips the wagon tighter than before.
Pushing out thoughts of pain, Nasir’s face furrows as he uses all of strength to pull the cart away from the fire.
Unwrapping the shoufa from his head, Thomdril uses it to mop off the sweat from his face. This is good, the fire is going out! Thomdril takes note of those who care casting spells and those who are using their physical might to help put out the fire.
Realizing that he might have been standing looking around for a few minutes or possibly a few seconds, Thomdril snaps out of it and continues working on the fire helping to get buckets of water to the wagon.
Viridi continues to channel divine magic to extinguish the fire!
Shiiru finally reaches the line and the bucket he'd been using drops into his hands. He jumps right into line, helping to put out the fire. As he does, the cat jumps off his shoulder and stalks around the fire watching the world unlike any normal cat, and bends their head down to sniff here and there.
As the others continue to work the buckets and slowly bring the fire under control, Nasir throws his rage into the cart. It shifts slightly, but must be caught in a rut, as it's going to take a herculean effort to make it move. The man keeps his encouragement up "Come on lads, nearly had it then!"
Meanwhile the men manning the bucket line start up a slow rhythmic work song. It echos shifting sounds, and it's easy to fall into the pattern and pass the buckets quickly.
From over near the halfling a low moan comes from one of the men lying on the ground.
Amori, though more comfortable with solo performances, joins in the song and continues tossing water on the flaming wagon.
Seeing that the cart is difficult to budge, Fulk empties his bucket onto the flames, then dashes to assist.
“Welcome to the party Fulk!” Nasir smiles a big grin and shouts over the sounds of the work song as he attempts to push the cart more.
Shiiru continues passing buckets and getting into a rhythm with the others as the song continues on. He glances to those pushing the cart, but shakes his head, I could do little to help them now. He turns back to his own work ignoring all else but the rhythm.
With an almighty heave, Nasir and the other men, with Fulk's help, finally shift the waggon. Once it's rolling it's easy to get it a few yards away from the fire and out of danger.
While Nasir and the other men rest, the others focus on the fire, bringing it under control fairly quickly.
As the hubub dies down, the halfling man shouts, "Can someone please help this man, he will die soon!"
Amori moves to the halfling man's side, grimacing. "I'm no healer, sir, but I can provide some limited aid." He acts swiftly to do what little he can to treat burns, using the knowledge he has of wounds earned during his lifetime of slavery.
Viridi, seeing that the fire is more or less under control, turns her attention to the wounded and moves to heal the injured. She focuses inward and releases a burst of healing energy!
In between labored breaths, Nasir turns to the red half-orc. “Fulk my friend thank you for your assistance with that cart. Can you start rounding up those camels? I wil help you in a second. Give me a moment to catch my breath”
Once the fire is contained, Thomdril sees Nasir catching his breath and over hears him talking to Fulk; “Here Nasir, have a drink. I’ll see if I can give Fulk a hand...” Thomdril hands Nasir his waterskin and takes off towards the camels.
Round up some camels? This is not what you have trained for. Heck, you old fool, you haven’t even been around camels in your life... Thom what have you gotten yourself into...
”I’ll see what I can do.” Fulk says, before suiting action to words.
Once Viridi's seen to the wounded, she joins in trying to round up the camels...
With the fire contained, Viridi becomes a whirlwind of activity. Her channelled energy brings the wounds of those the Halfling is tended under control too, although one man is left still unconscious from his wounds, they are both stabilized.
Meanwhile Fulk attempts to round up the camels, but manages instead to scatter them a little more. Viridi again comes up trumps though, and makes a start on calming the animals and bringing them back to the fold.