Day 1: High Sun, Year of Priest’s Defiance, 170th King’s Age
To the north of the Road of Legions, off the main trade route of Balic and nestled within a patch of overtaxed scrubland, sits a quiet hamlet with a pristine oasis. Originally little more than a collection of half-destroyed stonework buildings, hastily-constructed hide tents and a couple of patches of arable soil, this hamlet was thought to have little of interest to the outside world. Even the patrician who purchased a claim to the land forgot about the place as soon as she left, lingering long enough to bestow her name upon it—Athena’s Oasis.
But things have greatly changed for this humble hamlet. Within the past six months, Lady Athena has returned from an expedition into the desert with a mysterious treasure and commissioned the construction of a great manor carved of sandstone. No one knows what’s driven Lady Athena to take a new interest in the Oasis, but when the first of many patricians began to arrive, rumours of just what it is Lady Athena found began to swirl about like a brewing dust storm. Some claim she has found jewels; others claim a trove of iron; others still claim she has struck gold.
Whatever it is she found, it is slated to be unveiled at tonight’s soirée. Today, the retinues of several patricians—and a few odder sights—gather at the hamlet’s only inn, the Dancing Rasclinn (so named for the image of a dancing rasclinn carved upon the shingle over the inn’s door). The wine here is watered down, the floor is hastily thrown together from what feels like random planks of wood, and the accommodations could only charitably be called comfortable, but as the blazing red sun rises to the peak of noon, it provides much needed shade from its hateful eye.
Though patricians are in attendance, the promise of a festival brings out other people as well, one of them a rustic woman, simply dressed, who seems to gawk at the nobles and their fabulous attire. In contrast to them, she's clearly a working woman, with sun-darkened skin and rough hands, and a noticeable rural twang to her accent.
He looked at the Inn from across the road tilting his head. The last agent he had killed told him that his boss, a member of House Tomblador would be here for this gathering... and he was here to find that person... and extract the information he needed.
His favored tribal mate Szienna was one of those taken by that evil merchant and odds were the child in her womb was his. He would not rest til she was returned to his tribe. He glanced about the place, He could see many local folk gathering about as well, just as drawn to this spectacle as he was. He had a small sigil worked into a stone that he was told would grant him entrance to this place. He had believed it then, but now he was not so sure. He kept a close eye on the door to see if anyone entering produced the sigil stone to enter.
He nodded slightly when he accidently caught the eye of a working woman with sun darkened skin and rough hands. It would have been rude to not nod at her slightly. He may have stood out here in the small hamlet. He was tall for an elf, with deeply tanned skin and long dark hair pulled back into a tight long braid. Intwinned in it were some sort of dark feathers. Despite the sun high overhead he wore a drab extra long cloak that covered most of his leather armor. The bow in his hands was obvious, but he wore a couple of weapons on his hips as well.
After nodding to you Laurelin he went back to watching the inn, his hands slowling rubbing a stone with something carved into it.
As a distinguished-looking, if a bit less lavish that some others, patrician approaches the entrance, accompanied by a pretty young woman bearing enough of a likeness to most probably be his daughter, approach the inn, all eyes are drawn to the titanic specimen of a woman following along behind them.
Her massive, well-muscled frame and towering height clearly marking her as a half-giant, she stands quiet yet alert, her amber-eyed gaze taking in all of those surrounding them, dark hair falling to one side, framing a pretty, yet intense face, highlighted by a vivid red tattooed pattern.
Her hide armor, enormous club strapped across her back, and visible scars across her bronzed skin, mark her as a gladiator, even to those who were unlikely to recognize her from the arena. Her employer, patrician Zaethus Nauripides had selected her to attend Lady Athena's event with him and his daughter, both as a guard, and a bit of embellishment to their appearance there being a less prominent family.
Zelimah takes in the variety of people present, some clearly wealthy city dwellers, while others looked to still have the dust of the open desert on them, nobles, craftsmen, and warriors alike buzzing with the excitement of this unusual event.
As you start to settle in, you look out one of the Dancing Rasclinn's windows--and you see someone sitting on the dunes. A green-haired woman in an earthen-brown robe is glaring venomously at something beyond your field of view.
-------------------
As you stake out the Dancing Rasclinn, you notice a very tall elven woman hitching a kank laden with bags to a nearby stone post. Her hair is long, black and flowing freely in the hot breeze. Her dark leathers are covered in a fine layer of grit.
-------------------
Patrician Zaethus, an older gentleman dressed in a white chlamys, violet cape and well-worn sandals, starts walking up the well-beaten dirt path to the elaborate, two-story sandstone manor in the distance. He runs a hand through his greying hair as he moves. "Zelimah, keep an eye on Mabriel while I make arrangements with Lady Athena." He calls back.
Mabriel, the pale-skinned, redheaded girl dressed in violet silks, stands next to you and looks up at you with bright blue eyes. Her expression is decidedly nervous.
"Of course, Patrician Zaethus." Zelimah replies with a respectful inclination of her head, before glancing down at Mirabel with a smile.
"I know it is, loud and chaotic, but you have nothing to fear." she says softly, to the young noble, before raising her gaze to once again scan the crowd for any sign of threat.
Tik'tik sat at a table alone. The large, mantis-like being was an intimidating sight to many and had begun making a name for himself as a capable psioncist and hunter. His carapace was rust colored and his eyes deep black multifaceted lens. He had several sashes wrapped around him like bandoliers and each was decorated with various pieces of jewelry. None of it alone was very valuable but it was all artfully arranged to match his coloration in a flattering way.
Tik'tik hoped the ensemble would make him seem less threatening to these soft creatures. He needed work but had a policy of making people approach him. If they weren't brave enough to face him he was not interested in working for them. He spotted the redheaded girl who seemed very nervous and his first thought was prey his second was too young, child, not prey, must protect he had failed the nymphs of his tribe, he had sworn he would never fail nymphs again. The girl was little more than a human nymph so he would protect her if trouble came.
Mabriel nods in agreement and looks around at the milling people outside the Dancing Rasclinn. "...strange. Why are they all wearing masks?"
Another look at the crowd shows that many of them--from the occasional patrician to several of farmers in roughspun tunics and sandals--are wearing masks fashioned to look like a variety of Athasian animals.
"What's the occasion, I wonder?"
-------------------
As you get settled in the shade of the Dancing Rasclinn, a young human man in a clean, white silk tunic approaches your table. "Welcome to the Dancing Rasclinn. Shall I fetch you a drink?" He asks, putting on a customer-service smile.
"That is...unusual." Zelimah replies, her amber eyes narrowing as she studies the various animal masks. "Some kind of festival perhaps?"
The presence of the giant woman gave him pause. She carried herself like one who knew her way about a fight... and he was pretty sure he didnt want to be opposing her anytime soon. The folks all wearing masks was obvious too, no one he had questioned had mentioned them at all. He slowly made his way forward torwards the inn. If he could get inside he was sure he could start finding the answers he sought.
He mumbled a few good days, and pardons as he moved through the light crowd for the inn doors.
An elven woman slips quietly into the inn. She's dressed in rough leathers of her people, and her hair is wild from the wind. She stands in the shade just inside the room. It doesn't appear she wants to take a seat, but just wants relief from the sun. She'll stand there until someone tells her she either needs to buy a drink or move on.
Her eyes look over the thricreen that's sitting at a table and raises an eyebrow at him, and gives a slight nod.
Tik'tik's head cocked to one side on it's stalk as he thought about what to order. He wasn't really hungry or thirsty, more making his presence known for possible employers. Still it was considered rude to not order and it wouldn't kill him to eat again.
When he spoke his mouthparts moved and his words were puntuated by hard consonants being sharply cut off, "I will take what ever is fresh and wine."
Laurelin doesn't have a mask, and she's not a noble, just one of the semi-locals who caught wind of a festival and had to come see (and try to get some free food). She splits her attention between watching the various socialites mingling, and watching out the window that faces the dunes.
As the day continues, another tent is put up in the town square--this one made of colourful silks and rapidly becoming surrounded by people.
"Ladies and gentlemen, travellers from near and far, step right up!" A gravelly male voice barks from the tent. "Lady Athena, in her boundless generosity, has extended an invitation to all who seek her company! Step right up and claim your mask for admittance!"
-----------------
Mabriel looks up at you in confusion. "Masks? I wonder why we need masks?"
Laurelin's curiosity is piqued by the arrival of the new tent. It's probably some kind of trick, she thinks to herself, but a pretty mask would make a nice souvenir...
She approaches the tent cautiously, watching for pickpockets or scams, somewhat awed by the sight of all the color in the silk fabric.
"It's probably part of the celebration. Masks help people forget themselves and simply enjoy the moment." Zelimah answers reassuringly to Mabriel as they approach the tent.
The interior of the tent is crowded with people, most of whom are clad in sand-logged desert garb and just looking for a place to get out of the sun. Curiously, a cursory glance across the crowd reveals that at least half of them are all wearing masks, most of them in the shape of one animal or another.
There are a few people in the tent who stand out--a tall, elven woman with dark hair and pale skin, a gentleman dressed in gaudy orange and red desert robes, and a half-giant wearing a well-oiled leather armlet who looks like he's waiting for someone.
The orange-clad fellow is seated behind a wooden stall with a wide array of strange masks on display--some of them of Athas' many vicious & strange animals, others of humanoid faces bearing different decorations. The elf appears to be in the process of picking out a mask to wear.
------------------
The man behind the stall points at you. "You there, young lady! Are you, perchance, seeking to attend Lady Athena's soirée?"
------------------
Mabriel nervously looks around the tent as the two of you enter. "Is this where we get masks?" She asks, shrinking further into your shadow.
The man behind the stall points at you. "You there, young lady! Are you, perchance, seeking to attend Lady Athena's soirée?"
"Ah, perhaps?" says Laurelin as she's craning her head about looking for the selection of masks.
"Then I daresay you're in luck!" The man grins and gestures to his many masks.
The masks on display range from several facsimiles of Athasian animals and insects--you recognize wezers, kirres, tagsters, klars, pulp bees and the ever-present thri-kreen in particular--to several decorated human-like masks. A muscular, dark-haired man dressed in the proud violet chlamys of a Balician patrician steps up next to you and picks out a mask of a deep green feline with yellow-brown vertical stripes over the eyes.
"I've always been a proponent of going with something that best represents you, myself." He chortles.
"So you feel a connection to the kirre?" says Laurelin to the patrician, as her hand hovers over the mask of a pulp bee.
"Oh?" The patrician tips the mask over in confusion. "...could've sworn this was a tigone..."
He shrugs and holds onto the mask. "But yes, I find that a beast of such ferocity suits a gentleman of my valour." He grins and extends a hand in your direction. "Gennardo Kendler of House Kendler, a pleasure."
------------------
Mabriel nervously looks around the tent as the two of you enter. "Is this where we get masks?" She asks, shrinking further into your shadow.
"Yes, I believe it is." Zelimah says guiding her charge, while remaining close enough for her to feel safe.
Mabriel tentatively nods up at you before leading the way to the stall.
A couple of people are already at the stall by the time you get there--a dark-haired, violet-clad patrician and an orange-eyed young woman dressed more for the desert than a party.
Giving the others at the stall a polite nod, bowing differentially to the patrician, and noting the young desert dweller's unusual orange eyes with interest, she takes a look at the available masks.
Quite a few masks are available for perusal, most of which are of Athas' many vicious critters. Mabriel takes a human-like mask with a facsimile of white hair and holds it up in front of her face.
"How's this look?" She asks before taking what looks like an angry-looking bear mask from the stand. "I think this suits you, by the way..."
"Klar? Bold choice," says Laurelin as she adjusts her pulp bee mask.
With her mask situated, Laurelin goes on the prowl for something tasty to eat. Maybe they'll even have fruit? Sometimes nobles like to splurge...
Zelimah takes the mask in her hand looking it over with a smile. "A Klar, that is a bold choice." she says grinning and nodding to the woman in the bee mask. "I think yours is fitting as well." she says to Maribel, before donning the Klar mask.