Antarah adds "Well, I did hope to fire up my furnace, but it'll have to wait until we come back. But I do think we should instruct the guard about the gnolls somehow. In case they don't get wind of us leaving. Just a heads up, maybe."
“I really should spend more time with them, shouldn’t I?” Aith muses. “Instead of lurking in my laboratory and library all the time, when we’re not gallivanting about.”
Her expression is somewhat contrite, and since she has no particular plans for the big city, she spends most of her time after gathering her gear tentatively adjusting her schedule so that she can be a bit more present for the average guardsperson. After she’s back from Katapesh, at any rate.
An opportunity to at least make a start soon presents itself – one of the afternoon training sessions outside the battle market. She decides, in the interest of looking like she knows at all what she’s talking about when she and the others try to sell it in the metropolis, and to show that she appreciates that all the members of the guard have to work constantly at maintaining or developing their weapon skills, to give the sinister greataxe from the tomb deep under the House of the Beast a try.
It goes about as well as expected.
The thing is, she knows the idea of it – has even handled similar weapons before – so her technique is correct, but there’s just no getting around that once she gets the thing moving she has to rely a lot more on its sheer momentum than any of the others would. Maybe that is the secret to dancing weapons after all, she thinks as the thing tugs at her in the wake of the swing she takes as she moves into a new stance. Maybe such weapons summon tiny elves – invisible ones – with pipecleaner arms to hurry the things to the target when they’re loosed to attack on their own.
Even when she’s trying to be all properly sheriff-y, she is able to laugh at herself, if a bit dryly as she demonstrates that one can try to do one’s best with all available resources even if it takes one outside of one’s comfort zone – though one should know what plays to one’s strengths.
She promises to proceed accordingly in seeing to guard business in Katapesh and upon her return, and hopes that while she may not look any more balanced than before, hopefully she’s planted a first few seeds to suggest that the sheriff isn’t just a reclusive mage with a disconcerting enthusiasm for large magical explosions. Mostly, but not just.
As Aithaloessa, Sheriff and Knight of Kelmarane appears on the training ground, everyone snaps to attention and tries to look busy. As the elf readies that ungodly axe tries some swings with it, all close try to get more distance without it being too obvious. Seeing how it goes, they drop the subtle part and walk away to get to safety. The practice dummy, made from wood and straw, isn't made for such an assault and breaks down after a few swings but at least it doesn't catch fire or explode.
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Antarah approaches Aithaloessa and says "Hey, I don't think you need to prove you need to swing an axe. If you can direct their training and motivation, you'll be a far more respected sheriff than most. How about this, you state the axe's properties to your guard and claim it is meant to be wielded by your lieutenant. Whoever proves themselves worthy can claim the title. All of them will strive to become better guards."
Haleen decides that the Battle Market needs some more action on stage. She puts on her good flowing dress and does some fencing dance to entertain the crowd.
"I'll be ready to go when you are" Tariq announces. "Meanwhile, I'll be taking care of the monastery."
With everyone busy checking on their respective businesses the departure is delayed a few more days.
The gnolls stay away from town. But there is a merchant who is really interested to find out if there is a big deal to be made.
Antarah approaches Aithaloessa and says "Hey, I don't think you need to prove you need to swing an axe. If you can direct their training and motivation, you'll be a far more respected sheriff than most. How about this, you state the axe's properties to your guard and claim it is meant to be wielded by your lieutenant. Whoever proves themselves worthy can claim the title. All of them will strive to become better guards."
Aith looks a bit surprised at Antarah’s approach, and though she smiles brightly, there’s a trace of confusion in her eyes that looks, even after a century and then some of experience, like nothing other than the sort of expression that the one bookish elf in a Smokeside grammar school would sport as she fails to understand the other children’s games.
“Oh? I was thinking of selling it in Katapesh, honestly. Turning it into scroll and other spell money. Spell knowledge is easier to share out than bits of metal, in some ways,” she says quietly, her smile growing more confident as she explains her plans. “Only, I wanted to get a feeling for this thing so that I wouldn’t look like an easy mark that doesn’t know what she’s got in her hands, and I do feel I’ve been rather neglecting the poor sods I’m supposed to be directing.”
She takes a moment to turn back to the guards training, brandishing the axe in a somewhat alarmingly unsteady grip as she calls, “Good work, everyone! Please, continue. Swords next week, I think, or whenever we’re back from the city!”
Retreating back to her office, Aith appreciates the challenge of what Yasmeena’s got in mind for her bow. It’s an interesting idea, not least because it's not quite in her usual line, and if she wants to get a good start on it…
She doesn't literally roll up her sleeves just yet, but she pulls several books off her shelf and gathers a handful of reagents.
As everyone busies themselves with their business and the urgency to visit Katapesh is gone, Haleen makes plans for the entertainment in the Battle Market and looks for musicians, singers, dancers and groups doing drama. As the trip to Katapesh will take weeks for the travel alone some planning ahead is necessary, shall there be something in that time.
In the early hours of the day she visits Antarah's workshop to start a new project. A breastplate, made of the same lightweight silvery metal her chain shirt is made of.
It would be a lot easier if Kelmarane’s market were big enough that she could just go find hair from one of the more aggressive sorts of angel, Aith reflects, but there’s something deeply satisfying about getting to more or less the same effect with reagents that are more than the sum of their parts, even if it does mean a bit more awkward work.
So it is that between waiting for the most auspicious moments for what she’s trying to do, or when something’s heating in a crucible or stewing in a flask, she finds herself tutting over which of the local merchants is responsible enough to make sure they know what sort of sprite their sprite dust comes from in particular. It makes a vital difference!
Standards and weights and measures are probably also someone else’s job to worry about, though, technically, and she would only get involved officially if something’s gone horribly wrong. But anyway.
When she’s not in her lab/office keeping up with sheriff business while working on Yas’ bowstring, she makes sure to keep some time available to watch Haleen’s masterful performances, hoping that she might be able to glean a trick or two. Not that she ever wants to be dragged into a swordfight if she can at all help it, but still.
After a week of preparations of different kinds the Knights of Kelmarane are on the road again.
Just half a day's travel from Kelmarane there is a tiped over wagon with a broken wheel lying next to the street. Not far from it a heavily bruised man lies in the shadow beneath a bush.
Not far from it a heavily bruised man lies in the shadow beneath a bush.
Yasmeena idly plucks the string of her new bow as they go, her eyes half-closed as if enchanted by the music in the sound of her strumming it. She snaps out of her reverie as she sees the man on the side of the road. "Hello?" she calls. "Are you all right? Do you need help?"
"No, I'm not." the man replies groaning and coughing. "Thank the gods you come along. A band of gnolls robbed me, stole even my camel and left me here to die."
Aith quickly finds a waterskin from among the group’s supplies and hurries to bring it over, trying to gauge the man’s condition as best as she can, though Tariq’s expertly trained eye would be much better at it.
“Which way were you headed?” she asks, as she helps the man sit up, her eyes flickering to the wagon to see which way it’s pointing. “We’re on our way to Katapesh ourselves, but Kelmarane’s very close.”
She wonders if it would be safe to get the fellow on his feet, fix his wagon, and send him off with a handful of goodberries, if he’s heading to the way they’re coming from.
The guy rolls to his side and pushes himself up to sitting position. He accepts the water and takes a big sip. "I'm headed to Katapesh. And I still have to, as there is nothing left to get me on my feet again anyplace else. I need to get back to my guild in Katapesh."
“Well, I suppose there are some small mercies, at least. I’m sorry you’ve been robbed so brutally, but you’re welcome to travel with us for safety, since it seems we’re headed in the same direction now. Which is your guild?” Aith asks, aiming for a soothing friendliness.
“Oh, and I didn’t introduce us! I’m afraid we’re probably the most frightful defence Kelmarane’s got, but there’s only so many of us. In fact, we’re headed to the city to resupply, see if we can find ways that we can put the town on a safer footing even when we’re spread thin ourselves.”
It’s true, in an indirect sort of way, she reflects, as she does the round of names. Quite apart from figuring out what that scroll is hiding, a monstrous axe that no one’s particularly keen on using isn’t all that helpful in keep the Kelmarane guard prepared.
The man studies Aithaloessa's face again and bursts out "You are the sheriff, aren't you?"
With visible relief he adds "I'm Radu Hamdi! I'm with the One Source Merchant's Guild. I'd really like to come along with you. That way I'm safe."
Somehow, Aith thinks, a bit ruefully, but she doesn’t say it, because that probably wouldn’t be reassuring. Probably because you clean up nicely and like playing with toy soldiers thinking about something like strategy and logistics.
“I am, and the less frightening alchemist in town, I hope,” she says brightly, not wanting to cut Undrella out completely.
“Welcome aboard,” she says, gesturing to their little caravan, before asking, “It’s been a while since I last visited the city. Remind me what the One Source trades in?”
"Everything. The One Source Guild is one of dozens of major importer/exporter guilds helping to keep the mercantile machine of the huge city in constant motion."
"At least the mouth isn't hurt. So your career as a merchant still has a chance." Haleen jokes. "Is there anything left, you need to take along?" she inquires.
A quick search of the wagon shows that there is nothing left, but empty chests and broken crates.
A minor complication comes up when the group makes camp for the night, as there is room for six people, but two have always to share a compartment. There is no real danger of getting wet during the night, but what it is too hot at day it is too cold at night.
"Well, our compartment is already full." Haleen comments, with a side glance at Yasmeena. "Does anyone have a free place at their side?" she asks with a grin towards Aithaloessa.
Aith should have known that at some point there would be an intrusion to her previously luxuriously unshared adventuring accommodations.
“No snoring,” she warns tersely, her tone edging towards suggesting that such is an offence worthy of being condemned to concoction test subject.
Really though, she’s not that worried. Compared to what she’s put up with when a guard rotation in Alkenstar would take her unit on patrol into the wastes, how bad can one merchant be? Surely not as much as a handful of guardsmen baked and exhausted by a brisk march under the desert sun.
The tent is really a charm. It's magical properties make it like non existent to the local wildlife. And with no smart creatures with ill intent around it becomes a peaceful night of rest.
The next day the travel on the well trodden paths leads through an oasis. Vultures wheel in the sky above the oasis in the gathering gloom. Scattered along the shore of the oasis are several mangled and quite dead bodies — gnolls and hyenas, although it’s impossible to tell how many of each due to their fragmentary state. These remains are half-burned and melted-
Tariq notices a sudden flash of light. "Over there!" he goes, pointing to the place he thinks must be the source. "Someone is making signals."
Looking over what is going on on the dune you see nothing but sand. Checking closely would take a 200 yard walk up the sand dune.
Aith’s mind wanders through most of the day’s travel, since the desert offers little to catch her attention, so she perks up at the oasis. At least, until she sees the gory remains littering the site, at which she loses her verve but acquires a bit of focus.
She’s no medical sort of person, but force, fire, and chemicals and their combinations are something she’s very much into, and she peers at the wreckage intently, trying to figure out what could have caused such grotesque damage. From how that landed, it probably must have flown about that far, which means that whatever threw it… And is that melted?
Various acids can do horrible things to flesh, and the softening effects of heat, of course, but…
Her reasoning is interrupted by Tariq’s call. She looks up, but sees only the face of the dune, and frowns. “I’m not seeing anything, but we can check.”
Without further ado, she heads up the slope, hand resting on her holster - just in case.
Sand dunes are a pest if you want to climb them. For every step up you slide two down. Or the other way around. It is really tedious.
You only get ten yards off the path as something big throws up a cloud of sand. As the sand settles a huge worm emerging from the ground shows as the cause.
Fortunately, even someone as unworldly as Aith can notice the tell-tale tremor of something that big moving in the sand beneath her, and she quickly draws her weapon.
She gawps a bit in horror as it becomes dreadfully clear that the Knights of Kelmarane have not put giant vermin behind them along with the House of the Beast, and tries to figure out what the thing might be.
"Watch out!" she calls, keeping her pistol pointed at the thing, but using her free hand to cast a spell to urge everyone to move that bit faster.
Haleen is totally unaware of the threat until it is too late.
Tariq looks around and sees Antarah dismounting, which reminds him he also doesn't like fighting on horse. He copies what the magic warrior does, ending up standing and ready to start delivering.
The death worm shoots lightning out of its maw at Haleen.
“Watch out!” Aith calls out belatedly as she concentrates on casting her spell, “It can spit acid as well as lightning! Also, it bites! Um, I suppose obviously.”
After all, it probably doesn’t gum things to death. Though, with enough acid…
The precise mechanism of death worm digestion is probably best investigated when no one’s at risk of doing so more directly than they would like, and Aith refocuses on lining up a shot as her spell takes effect.
Yasmeena steps back and begins her battle dance, swiftly drawing her bow and firing an arrow at the giant creature.
Haleen feels electrified. She moves up to the creature and stabs at it.
Swift as the northern wind, Tariq follows Haleen and deals a powerful slash...
...which seems to connect and cause a wide wound!
Yasmeena shoots comfortably from her position and deals a great amount of pain to the beast. Haleen nimbly moves up and stabs it, moving on afterwards. Tariq follows, but learns why the death worm got its name. The worm takes a huge bite from Tariq. Tariq retaliates in an even more painful way.
Antarah also cuts deep into the oversized vermin. It is leaking blood like a sieve. It rears up only to come down on Antarah.
Tariq pays little attention to his wound, prefering to kill the worm and apply some medicine when they can safely rest. He tries the same strike again, knowing it was quite successful.