Tomorrow, on the first day of Highsun at first light, the caravan was to leave the City of Grottos, Loudwater on its anticipated nearly month-long journey into the Graypeak Mountains and across the Great Sand Sea of Anauroch and ultimately to the Dalelands beyond.
The carvan - containing seven wagons in total - itself is somewhat of a mixed purpose, some trade goods from Loudwater and point further west, such as Waterdeep, one of the wagons is dedicated to the supplies required to successfully cross the Great Sand Sea, and one other is dedicated to passengers seeking passage to the Dale lands.
Caravan master, Tages Feru, a late middle-aged human male, had led caravans on this route along the Black Road many times over the last few decades, he expected this journey to be no different.
Tages approaches three of his newest "employees", Tekumbray, Myev and Meebo.
"I've no doubts, Myev will be fine on this little trip, and it will be nice to have another one who can make the inevitable repairs we'll need along the way," he says nodding toward Meebo, "But you, Tekumbray, you purchased passage, while I appreciate the offer to help out, don't feel as though you really have to."
"That's why I pay the likes of her." he adds with a wink, gesturing towards Myev.
"You should get some rest, it's going to be an early morning." Tages says, wandering off back toward the wagons. "I think most of the passengers are staying at the Red Boar Inn, if you're still looking for lodging for the night."
The Red Boar Inn was particularly busy tonight between the locals who come in, the passengers, and the newer employees of Tages Feru. The innkeeper, a half-orc woman named, Berta does her best to keep all of her patrons drinks full and happy, although it is pretty obvious that she is overwhelmed and may not be able to keep up this pace all night.
Silas, Baheera, and Utsuri are among the Inn's patrons for the evening.
Myev grins at Tages and pats her hammer lovingly, nodding at his statement about her handling herself. "Covered for security for the night, Master Feru? If so, we will definitely stay at the Inn."
She glances down at Meebo and Tekumbray. "Unless you had other plans, Meebs? I want a drink or two before we have to be super serious on the job."
A stunning young Calishite woman sits at a table near the fire, sipping a glass of wine. Standing out, not only due to her remarkable features, and exotic manner of dress, but emanating a palpable aura of elemental energy, she catches the eye of most patrons for at least a moment, often granting the observer a knowing smile that only broadens when they inevitably react to meeting her unusual eyes.
A smoky pupil-less grey that gives the impression of gazing into a living cloud, her eyes somehow still generate a feeling of warmth to all who meet them. Though likely her most memorable feature, Baheera’s almond shaped eyes are far from her only memorable ones, rich olive skin, lustrous raven hair and strong, yet soft features, make her stand out among the patrons of The Red Boar Inn, a place that was no stranger to unusual travelers.
Drawn to join the caravan by the pull of her Patron, and the promise of old magic and knowledge lost to the ages, Baheera finds herself balancing between excitement at what lay ahead, and intrigue at the unusual collection of individuals that also joined Tages Feru’s caravan for the journey across the legendary Great Sand Sea of Anauroch. Looking around the tavern, her eyes fall on the one sight far more notable than herself, the unusual silver skinned…person, sitting playing some sort of game alone.
This promised to be quite the adventure one way or another.
Meebo didn't look up from the item she was tinkering with, a backpack sort of device with a long hose and a nozzle. "Drinks sound good. So does a comfy bed, one last time before we head out. And real food, instead of trail rations. And safety."
She finished calibrating whatever it was she was messing with and the device made a faint, high pitched whine that faded into the background, making the folks nearby wonder if they were still hearing it, or if it was just tinnitus. "This should help with the safety bit tomorrow. I might leave it here, for now, though. Projectile streams of fire and drunkenness don't mix well." She spoke from experience.
She glanced up at Myev finally. "Lead on! See you in the morning, Mr. Feru. You can join us if you want, Teki...Teku...Tek!" she finally settled on a nickname she could remember. She smiled brightly to make up for forgetting the name, her red hair with its rainbow streaks up in a pair of messy buns that made it hard not to find her disarmingly cute. Inventions aside, that was usually her best defense.
After seven years in a dead, perpetually storm shrouded and cursed city, Tekumbray didn't much care where he slept as long as the stars twinkled overhead. If the bed was soft, the whiskey aged, and the stew plentiful, he was a happy gnome. Even happier if there was a mark or two who needed help lightening the burden of a heavy purse. Still...he pauses. Let's his eyes drift upward to gaze and the clear evening sky. The burgeoning stars twinkling softly in the indigo east. Best to check. He thinks while pulling out a thick gold coin. One side held the profile of a lady of exquisite beauty. The other, the same beautiful profile only reversed. Tymora and Beshaba. The Lady's of Fortune, good or ill. He'd found the coin just before he set out on the Beshaba-fated trek to Sokkar. For more times than he could count, he'd let the push and pull of the goddesses guide his actions within that dangerous place. It had usually served him well to pay attention to the winds of luck.
Elias had always laughed at him. A bunch of superstition and nonsense, boy. He'd say. The only luck in this world is what we make for ourselves. Wits and a quick blade, that's what'll see you live to be a ripe old gnome. Not some uncaring, devious, distant, divine sisters who're to busy dreaming of ways to rip each others hearts out verses seeing your tiny mortal backside safe.
The old grave robber was probably right. But the fact is, Tekumbray was still alive. Elias wasn't. A shiver runs along his spine at the memory of what he'd found when he'd finally tracked down his mentor after the djinn had scattered them about Faerun. His hand drifts to the small jade statuette hanging around his neck. All he had to show for seven years of fear, death, pain, and horror. The stone is cool against his skin. "What say you? Shall we sleep inside tonight or beneath the wild stars?" He asks and flips the coin.
Seeing the result, he frowns. Beshaba. Ill-fated. The sounds and smells of the busy inn pull at him. His stomach rumbles. He watches as the half orc and gnome start toward the inn. I guess I'll be sleeping outside. He starts to turn around only to have his stomach grumble more insistently. How about I just nip in for a bite to eat and then off to bed? No games. No tricks. He bargains with himself.
"Tek is just fine." He finally says with a distracted smile. "I'd be happy to join you both for a bit of dinner." He adds catching up to the two. The jade around his neck suddenly feels a bit cooler to the touch, but this time he ignores the potential warning and follows Myev and Meebo into the Red Boar.
Tages shrugs at Myev's question. "I'm paid up with the constabulary, so one would hope that we wouldn't have any issues of that sort. Enjoy your evening."
Myev, Meebo and Tek enter the inn to find it quite full. The half-orc woman rushing from behind the bar to various tables notice you walking in and says "Find a seat anywhere you can and I'll be with you in a few minutes.
"If you're with the caravan, I think most of the folks with that are over there." she adds gesturing toward the back of the room.
After a few minutes, Berta finally makes to the oddest looking pair in the inn, Utsuri and Baheera, conveniently seated at tables diagonally across from each other.
Looking back and forth between the two tables she asks, while pulling out a small notepad, "What can I get ya?"
Amidst the patrons in the back was the small frame of a half-elven man. He was easily somewhere in his mid-twenties, a fact that his elven blood disguised behind a youthful appearance. His hair was the kind of red that matched the setting sun, a wild mess on top that was organized into a braid along the back. Crisp, blue eyes studied those amongst him as he settled uncomfortably in his seat; the newly named Silas Asgavan had only recently finished his training and been embraced within the clergy as a true and proper Dawnbringer. Now it was time to leave the temple and spread the Morninglord's light into the world, a thought that left him with terrible dread.
Despite his dread, he could not help but look curiously at those who he would be travelling with. There was the strangely metallic person who androgyny he could not place, settled with weapons and instruments just as strange. He seemed to be a bit drunk at the moment but seemed harmless otherwise.
There was beautiful woman who had a presence that couldn't be ignored near the fire as well. Silas had caught her eye for a moment, her knowing smile adding color to his cheeks that was not merely there because of the ale he was drinking with his dinner.
The half-orc woman exuded strength and power, accompanied by two gnomes. He had heard that some of them were working security along the way. He finished his drink and stared down into it, trying to muster up the will for introductions.
"I likely should say hello. I will be their priest on the journey. The Rose-Gold God blesses and protects those who travel." To anyone looking, his vestments in colors of red, white, and gold as well as the hanging necklace of sunrise would immediately reveal the young half-elf as one of Lathander's faithful. He fidgets with his holy symbol and chews lightly on a silver lip ring, looking between the assembled cast with a mixture of anxiety and excitement.
Baheera looks on as the shimmery person at the table across from her replies to the half-orc woman taking orders. In truth, she felt some sympathy for their plight, seemingly a traveler with naught but what the wore or carried. But for a simple twist of fate, or the aid of her exalted patron, she could easily have found herself in the same situation in her travels here.
"I would sponsor your meal for the evening!" she says loudly enough for both the server and the unique traveler to hear, "Perhaps in exchange for your story?" she continues warmly.
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Tekumbray follows the innkeepers pointing finger and winds his way through the crowd. The odd, mirrored creature initially catches his eye and fires up his curiosity, but they are forgotten when his eyes land on the Calishite. Breaking out in a cold sweat with chills running sprints along his spine, the gnome can feel himself turning pale. Time seemed to come to an abrupt halt within his gibbering mind.
They'd found him! Somehow, the denizens of that foul, cursed, wretched city of Sokkar had already caught up to him! Panic had him already moving backward looking for a quick way out. A good disguise, she looks almost living. Of course, so did the fallen princess. Beauty, brains, and such a robust appetite for living flesh. That was the Princess Ophidia. The mere thought of the second most powerful undead creature in Sokkar had his stomach doing cartwheels.
BE CALM!
The voice echoes in his head. Feminine. Deep. Not unpleasant. Used to being listened to in many things. Tekumbray freezes his backpedaling and his hand only rests upon the short blade hanging at his belt. No one else seems to have heard anything. The Calishite is busy talking to the server. The mirrored creature seems a bit sickly, but also focused elsewhere. He was behind Myev and Meebo, couldn't see their faces. The Dawnbringer's priest looked a bit befuddled.
SHE IS NOT OF THE UNDYING OF SOKKAR. BE AT PEACE.
For some reason those last three simple words actually did calm his racing heart. Time returns. Along with his manners and more sensible and grounded dash of aplomb.
"Greetings, I am Tekumbray Cobblepot. A fellow traveler with good Master Feru's caravan." He says with a quick bow of his head. "A pleasure to meet you all as we prepare to set out across the wild desert."
The simple pleasantries help steady him a bit more, but not before one simple question flows through his mind. Who are you?
Berta was just about to tell Utsuri what he could do to earn his meal when Baheera spoke up, offering to pay for the strange being's meal.
With a sigh, Berta reiterates her question of the growing group. "What'll it be. Still plenty of the wild boar stew left. The roast venison is going fast. The cooks can always do something the catch of the day if you like river fish."
As they enter the Inn's busy tables, Myev clocks at least three separate ways to exit the building: Windows, behind the bar, and the door they came in (at the very least). She takes a moment to scan the room, eyeing the patrons who occupied the back tables Berta had pointed out to them. She grins at Berta, nodding thanks, and saunters towards the group, making sure her pace wasn't too quick for the stubby little gnomes that followed.
Compared to the more outlandish folks, Myev feels a little bit... underdressed. She's a typical half-orc woman: tall, green-skinned, with stubby tusks sticking out of her lower jaw (she spent a lot of her teen years wishing for bigger ones). Her years of military training had packed on lean muscle and a sense of order and neatness about her. Her long, black, thick hair was braided up along her scalp and gathered into a tight, high ponytail where the rest of her hair cascaded loose down to the middle of her back.
Her chain mail looks used, but well-loved. If one looks closely, one will see a few links had been replaced here and there with material that wasn't quite a match with the original. Her clothing is form-fitting, mostly leather with some patches of metal to protect the joints. She has a large maul strapped to her back; nothing too special, aside from one thing: twisted pink metal nails welded to the side of the maul in the shape of a heart.
Myev grins even wider when Tekumbray speaks, her lower lip stretching across her tusks, and pulls up two chairs for her and Meebo to sit with Baheera. "Myev Hellmark. Security for the caravan. Nice to meet ya." Her voice was a tad deep and husky, but still feminine.
The thought of a nice river fish made Myev's stomach grumble a bit; there wouldn't be much river fish where they were headed, and she did so love a good meal. She turns her beaming grin to Berta. "Oh, the river fish, for sure. And a flagon of your house beer. Whatever this one would like is on my tab, as well," she says, jerking her head at Meebo.
Meebo was distracted as she trailed in behind Myev, oblivious to Tek's nervousness upon entering the establishment. Still fiddling with a dial on the nozzle of the contraption she had not, in fact, left behind, she mumbled her own introductions without looking around as Myev and Tek did. "Meebo Biddybink. The stew sounds fine, thank you. And a flagon of the same."
Then Utsuri spoke, and the words were so odd Meebo stopped what she was doing and looked up. She stared with the intent curiosity of a child who hadn't yet learned it's impolite to do so. "What are you?" she blurted out when the figure had finished its tale, her tone one of awe and interest.
"Hmmm....I'll have the stew, some of that fine bread, and whatever dark ale you have on tap." Tek says to the server before his attention is drawn to the odd...seeing and hearing the second voice...very odd mirrored creature.
Listening to the story of a burning city, Tek couldn't help but flashback to the ruins of lost Sokkar. Numerous were the blackened stone skeletons of great buildings destroyed by fire, war, famine and neglect. All after effects of the cities fascination with death that ultimately destroyed it, leaving only desert and the vast necropolis behind.
With the final high pitched note of the flute still lingering in the air. Tek plasters a wide grin upon his desert weathered face.
"A fine tale, if told in a rather...errmmm...unusual method. But there be more than a few strange folk wandering the roads of Faerun. To each their own I say." He says while trying to not look directly at the bizarre second mouth. Instead he adjusts the blue and silver striped kerchief wrapped tied around his neck and ponders the game of stones. He draws a deck of cards out of the pocket of his worn dusty coat.
"Anyone up for a game of cards while we wait. Whist? Swords vs Wands? Neverwinter Knaves?" He asks cutting the deck into halves, then quarters, then again with a single hand before stacking them back together and shuffling the stack with a quick *thhrrrppt* of the cards.
Silas, like many others, were enraptured by the strange story and method of the silvered figure before them. Only when the others started to talk that he began to stand up and brush himself off, taking a deep breath and finishing his mug for just that last bit of liquid courage.
"Right. On with it then." Silas murmured to himself as he approached the group of them. A quiet smile spread across his face as he stepped into the circle of them to introduce himself.
"May the sun shine on you all. I'm-I am Silas Asgavan, Dawnbringer of Lathander. I will be...uhh...travelling with you all westwards on pilgrimage and journey. This is my first trip out of Loudwater, I'm quite excited to meet all the new people beyond it!" The optimism radiated from the young half-elf like his very own sun. At the mention of cards, he would nod. "We used to play Swords & Wands back in the temple dorms! I'll play."
Berta quickly scrawls down your orders and zips off to the back. Not terribly much longer she returns with tankards of ale all around, a plate of fish with fried potatoes, a plate of venison accompanied by roasted root vegetables, two large bowls of stew and an entire loaf of bread.
"That ought to have ya taken care of for now." she says. Glancing up and hearing the Lathanderite priest she asks, "Get you anything?"
Looking at the Calishite woman, she adds, "Don't recall you ordering anything, you want somethin'?"
Myev thanks Berta and digs into her plate of fish and potatoes with gusto, occasionally washing things down with a big gulp of ale. She only half-listens to the weird mouth-monster-person's story, finding herself unimpressed by the display of oddity for oddity's sake. She snorts a little at Meebo's question and attempts to hide it behind another gulp of ale.
After demolishing some of her meal, she turns her attention to Tek and Silas, leaning foward in her seat and grinning toothily. "More of a dice person myself, but I won't turn down a good time... Swords & Wands sounds great."
"Wait wait wait...objects granted sentience? How? Because I've had a few ideas rolling around for creating artificial intelligence, but to create actual sentient objects would be.." she trails off and is clearly deep in thought, grabbing her ale in both hands and taking a loooong drink from it.
She was far too mentally entangled in the possibilities to join in the friendly game, which was just as well, since she'd gotten in trouble a time or two for counting cards.
Berta quickly scrawls down your orders and zips off to the back. Not terribly much longer she returns with tankards of ale all around, a plate of fish with fried potatoes, a plate of venison accompanied by roasted root vegetables, two large bowls of stew and an entire loaf of bread.
"That ought to have ya taken care of for now." she says. Glancing up and hearing the Lathanderite priest she asks, "Get you anything?"
Looking at the Calishite woman, she adds, "Don't recall you ordering anything, you want somethin'?"
"Forgive me, I was a little distracted in such wondrous company. The fish sounds, delightful!" Baheera replies with a warm smile, "And another glass of wine please."
The djinn-bound's eyes widen slightly as Utsuri's single breast begins to speak...it was clear that Baheera was not the only one bound in some way to a fantastic entity...this truly promised to be quite the journey.
”Of course not,” Baheera says cheerfully. ”Perhaps the tale of a young girl, one who lost her mother at an early age to illness, growing up as the persimmon of her father’s eye.” she says with a smile, settling in to her story.
”A gifted academic, he expressed his love for his daughter by introducing her to the wonders of the past, sharing his love for the great artifacts and mysteries of the lost ages of magic and wonder. As she grew, becoming more capable and intrigued by learning of the ancient past, she began to go with her father’s team on digs and explorations, venturing into lost tombs and ruins to learn the history of the earliest civilizations and of the magics & technology that were lost to time.”
She takes a sip of her wine as she continues.
”As her father aged, he began to go on fewer of these, leaving the physical work to younger folks, with the budding young archeologist often leading the team, until one such exploration suffered disaster. On one of her expeditions to a partially sunken ruin, finding a hidden chamber and entering it, mere moments before the ruins partially collapsed trapping her inside what turned out to be a partially submerged treasure room, while burying the other members of the team.”
”Anticipating her eventual demise, with nothing left to lose, she begins to catalog and investigate the wondrous treasures within, coming across a beautifully intricate lamp. Deciphering the inscription on it, leads to a magnificent discovery, as she inadvertently releases a powerful Djinn from millennia of captivity. Grateful for release, and intrigued by this mere mortal’s love and desire to know and reveal the secrets of bygone epochs, the mighty djinn forms a pact with the girl, granting a fraction of her power and freeing her of her predicament.”
”And so began the ongoing tale, bound on a journey of exploration and discovery, learning and 'liberating' the past from forgotten tombs, unearthing forgotten treasures, and returning rare lost magics to the world. An adventure beyond compare.”
She smiles, an intoxicating expression as her eerie eyes meet those of each person at the table one at a time. "As I am sure you have discerned, the tale is my own, Basheera al-Sah'haar at your service, a pleasure to meet you all. May shade and water find you always."
Meebo smiled at the offer of friendship and nodded, eager to learn more about the strange dual-entities. Of course, that was hardly surprising. She wanted to learn more about pretty much everything, and always had.
She was also easily distracted. "A djinn? I wasn't sure they were even real. I mean, you always hear stories about them. Do they really grant wishes? I mean a pact sound more useful than wishes I guess, since once you make wishes they're gone, and a pact lasts forever, unless one of you breaks it." She went quiet again as she considered what she would wish for, if given the chance.
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Myev grins at Basheera's eye contact and nods in reply. "Both of you-" She jerks her head in Utsuri's direction, indicating them as the other half of "both." "-have some wild stories. Fun, though. Thank you."
She sighs, brows furrowing in momentary sadness. She attempts to hide her expression by drinking deeply of her ale and finds herself wishing that she had something interesting and magical in her background, a thought that had plagued her periodically throughout the years. Her prowess with big, heavy things was impressive, but not the stuff of tales. Nothing zazzy about a half-orc smashing a door.
She sets the tankard down heavily, wiping the foam off of her upper lip with the back of her hand. "I just punched my commanding officer in the face for being a worthless prickface criminal. It didn't go over well."
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Tek shuffles the Talis deck one last time and slides them over to Myev to cut. "Looks like we've only got enough for three handed." He says picking up the split deck and dealing the cards with deft, experienced quickness. The deck is old, quite old since Myev draws the Art card which is usually Temperance in most modern decks. And rather than the usual suits of Flames, Stones, Waves, and Winds, this deck uses the ancient Zakharan suits of Sword, Wizards, Cups, and Coins. The edges are a bit worn but overall the deck in still in excellent condition and the artists renditions are superb. Silas notices a blood stain marking the face of the Queen of Coins but a quick check reveals nothing suspicious on the back side of the card.
But before Tek finishes dealing the requisite eight starting hand cards, all are drawn into the Basheera's tale. The mention of another djinn causes the gnome to nearly fumble the cards. He's quick to recover but the jump is quite obvious. His heart races. Could it be the same djinn that freed his band from Sokkar? The very same creature that let old Xanthus to die in that hovel outside Phlan where the Undying caught him?
His eyes flip to the Calishite and then quickly back to the cards.
"Open for two Swords." He says nervously shifting his cards constantly.
"A djinn you say. How curious. I encountered one of those creatures once. They must have a habit of rescuing stranded parties of adventurous types. For I and my companions at the time were also delivered from a rather unpleasant situation by such a spirit." He chuckles. A short, cagey laugh accompanied by a shake of his head slightly causing the ragged feather in his wide hat to flutter in the stale tavern air. "Although I can't ever imagine making such a union with one of them as you speak of doing. A capricious and demanding creature was Osik of the Ten Thousand Glories, as we were forced to call him. Was thankful for the aide, as double-edged as it may have been. Glad to see the last of him."
A few moments after placing her order, a fresh plate of fish and potatoes shows up in front of Baheera.
The soon to be traveling companions fill the remainder of night with conversation, drink, and a few hands of cards. The Red Boar stays busy most of night and with a first light departure time, you all decide that sleep may very well be appropriate.
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The next morning arrives with a hazy sun just beginning to rise over the horizon. Coming down the stairs, you see Berta, slumped over the bar sound asleep. It must have been a particularly long night for her.
At the gathering site, Tages Feru is already busy making sure everything is in order for departure, double checking the food stores, making sure the trade goods he was to bring were properly stowed and secured...the usual.
Seeing the party approach, he calls out, "Morning! Is everyone ready for the journey?"
"Wow...you all are...something...uhh...special." The cleric says nervously, giving his most reassuring yet sheepish smile. Bound to djinn and sentient objects? He was simply worried about passing the tests on Lathander's holy books and pilgrimage sites. The world was far more complicated than he had expected. "I suppose that there is some benefit of having some worldly folk here. I will trust in your instincts, your experience, and Lathander's grace to guide us safely."
His companions were interesting, a small bit of uneasiness that threaded through relatively honest ways. As shy as he was of the world, the temple had said that his eyes were like Lathander's light, finding truth even in darkness. As he collected his cards, he could only hope to keep the shadows they may cross against at bay.
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Silas is up bright and early, dressed in his vestments as he goes through his morning prayers. For any that wished them, he would invite them to sit with him and bask in the Morninglord's brightness as the day began. Double-checking his own rations, collecting his goods, and making his way to the caravan, Silas was ready for the journey ahead.
Tek doesn't really keep score, it was after all meant to be just a friendly game. He stayed up well into the night, sleep being elusive ever since he'd entered Sokkar. Wake up enough times to the slathering ravings of ghoulish undead looking to dine upon your flesh and you'll just stop sleeping as well. And so he passes out in his chair by the fire after witnessing the odd celestial creature, Utsuri, he finally recalls the name, heal the young girl.
Waking with a start as the first sliver of dawn lines the horizon, he shakes off the most recent nightmare and gathers his meager gear. Washing any remnants of the hazards of sleep from his mind with the strongest, hottest mug of Chaltan java he can find, he arrives ready and able when Master Feru is ready to get under way.
As excited as Meebo was to meet these interesting new folks, once the card game started up she spent the night drinking and tinkering. She had a fair bit of work to do before tomorrow morning to prepare all her things. Seemingly satisfied that her large backpack-hose contraption was in order, she set to work calibrating a small metallic device with a long antenna.
She also worked on a few other small projects. One seemed to go around her like a belt, another was a series of objects that resembled stakes, with orbs on the ends. She polished off a large lens, then returned to her backpack, this time fidgeting with a crank on the outside of it.
Her work got sloppier as the night went on and the ale kept flowing, and after a few frustrated outbursts at something not working right, she retired for the evening, swaying her way to a room.
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A bleary-eyed Meebo, hair somewhat messier than yesterday, was one of the last to emerge in the morning, likely at Myev's prodding. Smelling Tek's beverage she orders one as well, and it helps clear some of the fuzz away. By the time the caravan is due to depart, she seems back to her chipper self from the evening prior, decked out in odd scrap metal armor and with all her contraptions on her person.
After several enjoyable games of cards with the caravan crew, Myev went upstairs to rest shortly after Meebo. She felt like regulated her drink enough that she anticipated not having a hangover, but still drank a glass of water before bed...just in case. She tucked a blanket around the gnome gently and then flopped onto her cot, her legs hanging off of the sides of the mattress.
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In the morning, Myev was packed and ready before she even poked Meebo awake. She had risen with the sun, a habit from her military service that she found hard to break. She had tried to turn down the cleric as gently as she could, but she had a feeling that her internal smirk had slipped out. The thought of her doing anything mildly religious was...kind of ridiculous.
When Meebo came down, Myev added a Chaltan java onto the order as well, savoring each energizing sip. As the caravan prepared, Myev was standing around, arms crossed, glaring down everyone whose gaze lingered too long on the wagons.
Enjoying the evening’s companionship as the travelers all become acquainted with each other, Basheera is delighted at finding herself among an interesting group of people. The intrigue at knowledge of Djinn’s confirmed existence is entertaining, though she definitely notices Tek sort of twitching at each mention, something that leads her to believe that his experience with this Osik of the Ten Thousand Glories, was less than a pleasant one.
She’d have to ask عاصفة الصيف if she was familiar with that particular Djinni.
Heading to bed as the night wore down and most of the others turn in, she spends the night in the rented room, not quite the most luxurious accommodations, but serviceable, arising sometime after dawn. Her mind practically buzzing at the prospect of setting out, both the feel of venturing into the unknown, and the potential danger that inevitably came with it a welcome thrill.
Getting dressed and checking all of her equipment, she joins those who’d already assembled earlier, charmingly cheerful as she orders breakfast, before heading to the caravan as it make last minute preparations. ”A fine morning for adventure and exploring the world is it not?”
In the night, Silas had been woken by a crying and injured woman. He had gathered his holy symbol and prepared to offer succor when the strange monk rested his hand upon her and soothed the pain away. Silas quickly wracked his mind, processing the magic before him that channeled the positive before him.
That morning, Utsuri was one of the first invited to sit with the priest as he recited the hymns of Lathander. The morning rays that caught that metallic skin had earned a quiet stop of his words; this one was blessed whether they knew it or not.
"To reflect the sunlight so brilliantly...I hope I do not offend you by saying that you are a sign of good luck. I recognize in you a yearning for self-perfection. Lathander approves of such dedication. May I suggest, perhaps, the Order of the Sun Souls when we reach the Dales? I think you may find them quite enlightening." Silas said with just the slightest grin at his little pun.
The half-orc's refusal was met with quiet acceptance. As nervous and unsure he seemed in talking to them in the tavern, he seemed far more at ease in his faith's practice. Not everyone would be interested in the Morninglord's worship; they had their own dedications, privately worshipped, or perhaps had spurned the gods for their own reasons. Regardless though, Silas was not there to change the hearts of others through words but through actions.
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Returning after buying more rations for the long travel, Silas grins as he sees the others assembled.
"Light's blessings, friends! It is a fine morning indeed!" The priest said, adjusting his heavy pack upon his back. "I am excited to travel to the west; perhaps I can join pilgrims to Myth Drannor and gaze upon the Dawnspire..." Silas says with a smile, imagining the glorious structure despite the ruins of the elven city.
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The remaining passengers arrive shortly after you do and take their places in Feru's wagons.
"Alright that seems to be everyone." Tages says, heading back toward the lead wagon where one of the caravan master's drivers, Arnthi Thansi - a youngish, dark-complected, human woman with vibrant purple hair - awaited orders to begin the journey eastward. Not long after Tages takes his seat next to Arnthi, the first wagon would lurch forward. Soon after the other six wagons would do likewise.
The first day of travel along the Black Road was terribly uneventful, not so much as a wild animal was seen, then again at the beginning of a journey this long, perhaps boring was a good thing. The day's travel would end about three hours outside of Llorkh, the last town of any notable size you would see before entering the Graypeak Mountains.
As the caravan sets off, Basheera produces parchment, charcoal and measuring tools from somewhere, and spends time drawing a surprisingly accurate map of the group's progress, recording any notable features while still interaction with other travelers.
Welcome to Llorkh. Gateway to Anauroch. Tek stared at the weather beaten old sign. It's rusty chain squeaking with every dry, dusty gust of wind blowing off the nearby mountains.
"Looks like the back side of a mangy owlbear." Tek comments as they pull into town. He could imagine the outskirts of Sokkar looking something like this before they were swallowed by sand. Sad little hovels occupied by lost, forgotten, desperate, souls trying to scrape by on whatever crumbs fell from the table of the gods.
"My kind of place." He says with a smile before looking for what was probably the only watering hole in town.
"Something hardy to wash the dust from my throat, barkeep." He says to the proprietor once he finds such an establishment. After which he looks to see who among the patrons might be reasonable marks for a few quick hands.
As the caravan moved, Myev would patrol the most vulnerable spots, leaning into her half-orc heritage to aid in her intimidating appearance. She would chat with folks in the caravan here and there, but for the most part, she takes her job seriously. Especially given how tarnished it was due to her less-than-savory exit from the military.
When the caravan stopped, Myev would seek Meebo out to see what the gnome would be most interested in doing, but Myev would still be taking security seriously and would not leave the caravan without the Master's direct instruction.
Welcome to Llorkh. Gateway to Anauroch. Tek stared at the weather beaten old sign. It's rusty chain squeaking with every dry, dusty gust of wind blowing off the nearby mountains.
"Looks like the back side of a mangy owlbear." Tek comments as they pull into town. He could imagine the outskirts of Sokkar looking something like this before they were swallowed by sand. Sad little hovels occupied by lost, forgotten, desperate, souls trying to scrape by on whatever crumbs fell from the table of the gods.
"My kind of place." He says with a smile before looking for what was probably the only watering hole in town.
"Something hardy to wash the dust from my throat, barkeep." He says to the proprietor once he finds such an establishment. After which he looks to see who among the patrons might be reasonable marks for a few quick hands.
As the caravan master calls a halt, Baheera rolls up her map, storing it until the morning when she would continue, and disembarks from the wagon to stretch her legs. With a simple gesture of her hand, the dust of the road falls away from her person, leaving her skin, hair and clothing pristine, the scent of jasmine wafting where she passes as she watches the caravan make it's night preparations.
Finding Mvek as she watches over the impromptu camp being set up she greets the impressive half-orc with a smile. "Have you traveled with Master Feru long?"
Meebo spent most of the travel time sitting in the back of a wagon and working on her multitude of gadgets. She'd been working caravans with Myev long enough that the travel was routine, and she loathed boredom, but her mind kept busy upgrading and changing her gear.
When they stopped for the night and circled the wagons, Meebo took one of her projects from her pack. She carried a dozen long, pointy objects around the perimeter of the main wagons, placing the tip against the ground and hammering them into the earth so that only about a foot remained aboveground. The tops of the objects were clear orbs. When she was done, she'd formed a circle, and anyone crossing near stakes who was not from the caravan would cause them to flash and sound an alarm.
As she finished, she noticed Utsuri and frowned. "Hey are you okay?" She moved over to sit beside the fascinating monk, 99% genuinely concerned and 1% wanting to get a closer look.
Myev smiles at Baheera's approach; she welcomed the distraction from her responsibilities, especially from someone as lovely as the half-elf was.
"No, I haven't... he's got a good reputation, though. Meebo and I have worked for a few caravans before this, but he seems like one of the better bosses so far. What about you?" She works on strapping down the wagons and securing things as she speaks, then turns to the half-elf and gestures towards the nearby campfire: an offering to sit comfortably and speak.