“Did you say were looking for someone?”
"Eh... Yes, I did." Tariq is not sure he made a mistake by saying it in front of that many people, but well...
At the mentioning of the water, he smiles. "Water shouldn't be a problem. Other supplies, I don't know."
Isabella takes the coin. "Your fine beverage will soon arrive."
“Merchant royalty,” Aithaloessa chimes in, her blasé tone smoothing over her suspicion regarding the Pactmasters, however they fit into things exactly. Presumably just hunger for coin, she imagines. “And once we set off, simple room and board’s included. Presumably that includes transport for the aforesaid. It would be a funny sort of caravan otherwise.”
The elf’s rigid posture is in stark contrast with her words, heightening her irony. She meets Tariq’s contribution with a curious look, hoping her hunger for magic isn’t too obvious. They do say priests can work wonders, where the Spellscar doesn’t tear across even their connection to the gods.
If the relevant priest doesn’t feel like opening up about who he’s looking for yet, though, Aithaloessa isn’t about to pry, and she prepares to retire for the night. Fortunately, she’s long been in the habit of getting up while it’s still twilight. “If there’s nothing else, miss , gentlemen, we’ve an early start tomorrow.”
As an afterthought, just to get a better sense of who she’s working with, and her chances en route, “I don’t suppose anyone would recognize Angel – I beg your pardon – Djinnistep or Nethys’ Dagger? We’ll probably be moving too quickly to look for any on the way, but perhaps once we get to Kelmarane. They’re useful, if not exactly prolific.”
Yasmeena settles back into her chair, suddenly exhausted, but with a warm satisfaction that she would soon be on her way. After so long! she thinks. I hope Haleen is all right, after so many months. Who knows what could have happened to her in such an amount of time. And what is she doing in such a remote place as Kelmarane?
She is suddenly woken from her reverie by the voice of the priest of Sarenrae, and she only now registers something that he said earlier. "Haleen?" she exclaims. She leans forward. "Excuse me sir, but did you say Haleen?" It was not a particularly common name, but there was still a chance she had misheard.
Isabella returns with a fine porcellain cup full of hot black beverage, the wonderful aroma of which fills sthe whole room. It is so strong, that it gives the impression the liquid could wake up the dead. "Here you are."
Ibhrim gets up when Antarah pays for his coffee before he even has the chance. "You sir, truly are a kind man. If I was one for prayer I'd include you in them." He nods, "I believe I haven't properly introduced myself. My name is Ibhrm Bin Sayyid, bounty hunter by trade. The gentle kind, I'm not one for bringing in heads or ears. I recover things, and people."
When the coffee arrives he nods and mouths a thank you before he deeply inhales the scent. "Ah, fabulous. I haven't had this since many years ago in my mother's inn up north in Sothis."
"I wonder what you took the job for. Can't be the money." Isabella comments impressed as she takes the coin and leaves to fetch another one of this wonderful coffee that rarely gets ordered and now twice in the same day.
When asked about the water, Tariq smiles again. "Well, I certainly didn't try to sate a whole company before, but I guess I could do the trick, yeah. That doesn't mean, though, that we should go unprepared - I can't be everywhere all the time, and people need to drink even if I'm exploring a ruin or fighting vicious Gnolls anywhere else." As he talks, serenity slowly possess him, feeling what he says is listened to.
Then the one called Yasmeena asks.
"Yes, Haleen." He seems unable to stop the thrill, though he manages to articulate. "Have you by chance heard of her?"
He's not sure, but he could swear he's seen that woman before. Or someone very much like it. She appears a Sarenrite, or at least she knows that song...
Ibhrim looks rather confused by the scene with the other Garundi. What just happened? I asked for Karazhica, the lovely lady said sure and then Anatarh said "let me pick this up for you". It would have been a very kind gesture but apparently it wasn't. Odd. Wel, no sense souring a work relationship this early.
Ibhrim pulls a single gold coin from his pouch and walks after Antarah, "It seems I was mistaken. Here." He then puts down the coin on the table closest to Antarah before walks away oncemore.
Upon then hearing two of his new companions discuss this Haleen Ibhrim shuffles in a little bit closer. Could this be the same woman he was asked to find? It would be too much of a coincidence, yet two Haleens going missing probably would be even stranger.
Isabella returns after a few minutes with another cup of Karazhica, this time for Ibhrim. "Enjoy it."
Yasmeena looks surprised, then slightly suspicious, as Tariq speaks Haleen's name again. She looks around at the others at the table, obviously a little uncomfortable. Cagily, she says, "I, too, am looking for a woman named Haleen. I believe she left Bronze Hook several months ago?" She squints at Tariq. "She isn't in some sort of trouble with your temple, is she?" she asks. She smiles disarmingly at the others.
"Trouble?" Tariq shakes his hands. "No, no. She... disappeared, and I was worried about her. That's all." He wishes that last sentence was true.
Shyly, he asks the expected question. "You... are friendly to her, right?" Deep inside, he almost knows she is, and on the other hand she could lie anyways, but well... He had to ask.
Yasmeena shrugs. Perhaps it's better not to go into it here, in front of the others, she thinks, her face appearing thoughtful. But if Sarenrae has blessed me with this job in a caravan going to where Haleen is, perhaps She has also placed this man in my path. Come to think of it, he does look a little familiar...
"Bless me. but I believe I have been to your temple, friend. I often prayed at the low altar outside. Haleen, well, she never joined me, but I thought she had a friend nearby she would visit. Perhaps that was you? Do you know why she left so suddenly?" She says this last kindly, but with a slightly accusatory tone.
"I actually find your face a nit familiar" Tariq confesses. "Though I rarely officiated, I usually did watching tasks, so it was difficult to enter the temple without me noticing." He lowers his head. "Sadly, no, I have no idea. I pray everyday to find her safe and cheerful, though my heart is heavy with concern."
Tariq gladly follows any further conversation, happy to have found someone with some common ground - and what a ground.
When he finally retires, Tariq goes to bed full of optimism, and has a hard time catching sleep. In the morning, after his customary prayers, he quickly washes himself and walks down for a much needed breakfast. "It's going to be a hard day today."
Shortly bowing to Tariq, Antarah says "I have heard of holy men who could produce water out of thin air. Would I be wrong to assume you were one of those?"
Soothed about his concerns, Antarah ponders about the plant the foreign elf mentioned.
Aithaloessa pauses just long enough to witness the confusion about what does sound like very nice coffee before she takes her leave. So maybe watch to make sure no one wanders off with your drink, with this lot, she thinks bemusedly, but nothing too alarming so far.
In her room, sitting on the edge of her bed, she takes a moment to consider what she’s getting herself into before turning down the covers. It does mean getting that bit closer to Osirion and beyond, and along a trade route, so it’s hardly unreasonable. Besides clearing up raiders preying on travellers being the right thing to do, helping with that rather than braving the trail on one’s own is just safer. I don’t know how you did it, Aur, she muses, a pet name creeping into her thoughts as they turn fondly to her distant sweetheart before being lost to sleep. But then you were far from home yourself…
* * *
Long before dawn, while the sun’s first rays are still just faintly lightening the horizon, she’s up, does a few stretches and other exercises in the courtyard that won’t get in the way of the ostlers and other early risers, chooses a bit of theory to grapple with mentally over breakfast and the rest of the day, and settles her reckoning. By the time Garavel’s rounding everyone up, Aithaloessa’s just mentally checking one more time to make sure she knows what she’s done with all her gear – just a tiny bit obsessively.
After another couple of hours Yasmeena makes her way to her cot, and sleeps soundly. In the morning, she makes her preparations to leave Bronze Hook, and perhaps never return. She says a short prayer of thanks to Sarenrae, packs her things, and leaves to join the others.
As most went to bed and the last two who didn't become immediate friends over their shared like for special coffee follow the call of their bed too.
The night is short and the morning dawns. All are up early to not be late on their first day of work. They meet outside the inn as the first light of the day is seen at the horizon, waiting for their employer. As Garavel appears, he does so from down the road, riding on his camel. "We are meeting with Princess Almah and the caravan at the Sultan's Claw. They got half a day headstart on us, but they travel slow. I expect to arrive shortly after them. I don't want to keep the Princess waiting." He spurs the camel on, and it moves in a slow trot down the dusty road in Western direction.
Late evening, as you come close to your destination you can make out the immense outline of Pale Mountain looming over the mid-evening horizon like a tombstone. As soon as the craggy tree appears over the next hill, it becomes obvious why it is called the Sultan’s Claw. With five immense, mostly leafless branches, the growth looks more like a giant skeletal talon than a thing of living wood.
As you top the last rise, a caravan of a half-dozen wagons and a large tent clustered around the distinctive tree come into view. 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!
"Make haste! Find some way to help!" Garavel orders as he dismounts his camel and runs towards the scene.
Lush orange and red flames engulf an elaborate wooden wagon emblazoned with painted moons and stars. A gout of smoke pours from an open door, and as you approach an ill wind blows a number of colorful fortune-telling Harrow cards from inside the wagon. One card hits Aithaloessa on the chest and sticks in a fold of her clothes.
Almah, Garavel, and four soldiers dressed in the distinctive red chitin-plate armor of the Pactmaster Guard run back and forth between the burning fortune teller’s wagon and an uncovered wagon about 20 feet away. The latter contains a huge barrel holding enough drinking water to serve the entire campsite for a week.
Four burly mercenaries struggle with an enclosed wooden wagon within feet of the burning wagon, hoping to move it to safety before an errant spark causes it too to burst into flame.
A red-headed halfling cleric, Father Zastoran, kneels next to two severely burned mercenaries who tried to enter the burning wagon. Father Zastoran is tending to a badly wounded mercenary called Trevvis, but he is unable to focus on his second patient, a female sworder named Kallien, who lies near death from terrible burns and smoke inhalation.
A modest collection of pigs, goats, and sheep accompanies Almah’s party on the journey to Kelmarane. The flaming wagon has unsettled these creatures, which somehow escaped from their pen in the confusion surrounding the fire’s outbreak. The middle-aged human camel driver and his wife do their best to wrangle the panicking animals, but their efforts are quickly being overrun by the chaos of the situation.
Yasmeena gasps and rushes forward, following Garavel into the dangerous whirl of activity. "I will help carry the water!" she cries, her voice ringing melodiously through the confusion. "Do not fear, help is on the way!"
Ibhrim runs for the covered wagon to assist the four mercs already trying to move it. Preventing that one catching could be the easiest and quickest gain here.
Once there he starts pushing together with the others, "What's in this thing? Anything we could get out to make it easier to move?" Though he tries, Ibhrim is clearly more focused on the question and it's answer than on the pushing.
"What?"
Fire!
Tariq hesitates for just a second. They're fighting the fire, but there's a wounded mercenary struggling to remain alive. The choice seems clear.
He runs to where the other cleric is tending the wounded and bends down beside the burnt woman. Putting his hand on her chest, he calls for divine assistance from the Dawnflower. His other hand is holding his medallion, and suddenly the burnt skin and flesh regenerates.
"It's not enough to totally recover, but at least she won't die." He nods to the Halfling priest and quickly stands up to help with the fire. "We need to stop the fire, that would prevent more people to end up in the infirmary."
The help of Yasmeena is appreciated. Ibhrim tries to pull the other wagon away, but even together with the four mercenaries, the wagon doesn't move. Tariq saves a life with his quick intervention.
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Antarah slept uneasily in anticipation. After waking up, he prepares his daily spells and readies himself for the day. He is happy, but concerned. In Katapesh, it was necessary to always be wary.
As the day went by, Antarah tried conversing with Ibhrim to try to understand him more.
Antarah says "I'm sorry for the confusion last night. In fact, know that I would be happy to pay for your drink. If I may ask, where are you from?"
When the burning wagon appears, Antarah is caught by surprise and his reaction was a little delayed. However, eventually he sprung into action and moved towards the wooden wagon before starting to cast a spell.
Father Zastoran looks relieved. Now he can focus on Trevvis. "Good to have you." he tells Tariq.
Kallien is almost fully restored by Tariq's prayer for divine healing and joins the group that tries to put out the fire. There is a visible effect of throwing water at the wagon, but it'll take time to put it out.
Antarah starts working his magic ylose to where Ibrim tries pushing the cart. After a time that seems like forever in face of a fire, but is only a few moments, he grows to gigantic proportions.
Running forward, Aithaloessa vaguely notes the card that catches in the plates of her armour, but actually thinking about it will have to wait. The Cyclone. Suits a disaster like this, for sure.
Eyes open for any changes in the situation, she races to join the water line for now – she’s quicker than she is strong, so she figures the best way she can help for now is to keep water moving to the burning wagon.
Her hands fall to the rhythm easily, but she calls back to the priests over her shoulder, “Let me know if you need a nurse!” Tariq’s got the build to help spread things out a bit. ‘Militant,’ he says!
Enlarged Antarah pushes the wagon away, almost on his own.
Tariq wonders, what the halfling is doing there. Him curing that other mercenary looks like it will take forever.
Yasmeena continues to help bring water, and tries to get a subtle look at Almah without interrupting the flow. She's never seen a Princess before!
When you're out in the hinterlands with two dozen people, being a princess doesn't help a lot in case of a fire. But still she is worlds apart from the common folk. Besides the obvious differeence in clothing, her posture, her taint, her skin with only little wrinkles, that shows she seldom works out in the sun. Her hands without callous, the nails in perfect shape. The rings on her fingers and bangles on her wrist, all finely made from precious metals.
But even if she is spared of hard labor in her day to day routine, she obviously isn't lost when confronted with a practical task - like putting out a fire.
The wagon is still aflame, but at least no other wagon is in reach of the flames. But with every gust of wind the fire acts up again.
The animals are still scared and trying to flee. The couple in charge of keeping them in place and from getting lost are in over their head.
Tariq checks the priest's work with the corner of his eyes, with no time to really stop and find out why is it taking so long to attend the wounds. "He might be out of prayers."
He runs to the place where everybody is fighting the fire, trying to help providing splashes of water directly into the fire and thus avoiding having to do all the bucket queue.
Ibhrim nods approvingly when an enlarge Antarah moves the cart out of the way. Seeing that most joined the bucket line he decides to help contain the animals. He has never been good with beasts but he should be able to help contain them and prevent them from getting in the way. He looks to find the biggest of the animals that's still running around so he could put his own bulk to good use.
While looking he moves past the two currently working on it in hopes of picking up some rope from them.
Tariq quenching the fire with his own water helps a lot to save water supplies. Antarah joins the bucket chain too, as the animals don't react with becoming calm to his current size. With the joined effort the fire is put out rather quick. But the wagon is ruined. The interior is burnt and what isn't destroyed by the fire is doused and soaked in the immense amount of water it took to put the fire out.
Inside lies a corpse, burned beyond recognition.
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As Ibhrim comments on his origins, Antarah's eyes widen. "I have lived in Sothis all my life!", he says. Calming himself down, he continues "I was actually born in Kelmarane, but me and my father were forced to leave. In Sothis I studied magic and sword while my father did business. If you've ever looked for silk there, maybe you've heard of him? Ahabam Khaled?"
There was something somewhat hurt when Antarah spoke of his father, so he changed the subject "Anyway, just don't try to speak Osiriani with me, I never gave myself the time to learn it. So, what brings you so far from your family?"
Almah drops the bucket she had still in hand. "That's a pity." she states on the sight of the corpse.
"Garavel, find out why this fire broke out and if someone from our camp was behind that. Put the new staff to good use for that. At least with them we can tell for sure they weren't involved.
She then retreats to her tent, accompanied by her four personal guards.
"You've heard Princess Almah. Start with investigating the wagon and question the people, if anyone has seen something." Garavel tells.
He then turns to Father Zastoran to speak in private.
As the two walk away, you see that the other mercenary on the ground is stable, but not healed.
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Antarah wipes the sweat from his brow. As the sweat drops are flying away from his hand, they reduce in size, making it an odd sight. The enlarged man watches in mournfull silence as a man is discovered dead in the wagon.
He is sprung into action by princess Almah's quick thinking. Given his current size, it is hard for Antarah to look for small details. Instead, he focuses on what he knows and starts waving his hands and saying arcane words. The fact that he is wearing armor does not hinder him in any way which is odd to see for those trained in the arcane.
Yasmeena watches Almah depart, and frowns at the injured mercenary. She shrugs to the others and begins looking over the charred wagon for clues.
As the last of the flames are finally put out – albeit too late to save the wagon – only to reveal a horrid sight, Aithaloessa abruptly checks the deep breath she was going to take while settling her thoughts. Instead, she plucks the errant Harrow card from where it got caught between her armour and tunic, and taps it pensively in her hands. Something occurs to her, and she looks off towards Almah’s tent before finding the other adventurers and catching their gazes, silently signalling something to report.
First things first, though. The elf guard leaps into what’s left of the sodden and smouldering wagon and starts looking around for clues as to what happened, focusing especially on the corpse. How vicious was that blaze if they couldn’t throw themselves out and drop to the ground? Did they hit their head on the way down in the wagon? Or…
Once she’s done what she can as an impromptu coroner, Aithaloessa heads for the wounded caravan guard. Quite apart from any sympathy for a burn victim in a hot desert, the less time any member of a caravan spends out of commission, the better. And a good impression might get people to open up to her.
Kneeling down, she opens her healer’s kit before drawing a small, wickedly sharp knife, which she uses to finely process a small pile of herbs for incorporation into a quick burn salve.
It takes a while to prepare, let alone to tend to the patient with the needed gentleness, and Aithaloessa takes the time to mentally count out how many people there are to talk to, per Garavel’s orders. And…
She passes the card around to show the cyclone.
“It’s a sign of chaos and evil, naturally enough. But it also represents deliberate destruction by an intelligent force,” she explains.
Ibhrim tried to wrangle the animals with varying degrees of success. He liked watching the wild beasts but interacting with them never was his strong point. Except for his mother's fat, red cat but you could bribe him with a piece of meat.
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Antarah thinks long before answering "I'm sorry, I have never heard of that inn. I admit I didn't get out of the house much. But it is impressive to have family in the royal guard. I understand your reasons to leave, but you must still be proud that your family has such an important responsibility. As for your newfound ability, maybe it is a gift. Maybe in your travels you will find out about it. I have never heard of this unless for baleful magic. To be able to control it is impressive."
He offers the large man a smile and says "I find your path honorable. Family is complicated and the greatest of men and women have proven their worth by defying expectations on them. I only hope that I can witness your coming to greatness."
Antarah attempts to help Althaloessa with the sick men, although he had absolutely no training to.
Although not particularly attentive to change in others, Antarah is intrigued by the foreigner enough to see that she has something to say. He comes to talk to her and once she reveals the Harrowing card and its meaning, he says "This could mean many things, and I heed your wisdom. We may find ourselves in need to trust each other more promptly than what would be normal for mercenaries to. Who could this malevolent intelligence be? Someone in the princess' caravan or something outside? We will require to watch each other."
The Garundi man didn't know why he was talking more formally with the she-elf, but suspected it was her apparent difference.
Yasmeena cocks her head at Aith. "That is an interesting coincidence," she says of the Harrow card. "Something to keep in mind, certainly. Let's see if we can discover more about this person and the apparent cause of the fire."
Checking that the man being tended by the local cleric is at least stable, Tariq tried to put his ingenuity to good use, helping in the search of the wagon and the recognition of the corpse. If course, he summons his patron's help, for only a fool or a follower of Desna leaves in the hands of luck what could be achieved with craft and brains.
"But enough about me, how did you end up here? Why aren't you selling silk in Sothis?"
While the others start looking over the scene of the fire Ibhrim starts talking to the others people in the caravan, starting with those he saw closest to the fire at the start of things. They're still just preliminary questions, trying to figure out if someone saw something suspicious.