Namara al-Nasr's page

"Yes, a key ... and a bath," Namara says, laying a gold piece on the counter. "If you can spare me for an hour, I'll be in much better condition to help watch the chest."

If no one objects, Namara hobbles toward the bathhouse, hoping a long soak will ease some of the aches and pains of the day's battle.

"I would happily spend a few coins for a hot bath to soak in," Namara says, gingerly picking at the dried blood matting her hair.

She stared after her attacker for a moment, fury clear on her face. She sighed and cleared her mind.

As the Loregiver said: The head is a like a desert. The hotter it gets, the emptier it is.

"Let us know if you need us to testify to his crimes," she says, before turning away from the prisoner and heading toward the inn.

Unconscious while the argument played out, Namara finally begins to come to her senses as the group approaches the town. Her head a nest of wasps, she rises shakily to her knees to pray, drawing together painful words of thanks as Fate's blessing pours into her battered limbs.

I'm ready, just waiting for someone to bring me back to the land of the conscious.

Little help would be appreciated... One more bad roll and I'm a goner.

Namara gasps and coughs up bubbles of blood.

Namara grunts as the crossbow bolt slams into her shoulder, but the heavy mail does its job and prevents the missile from penetrating, although she expects a nasty bruise in the morning.

Faced with three archers, she decides the best course is to harry them and try to disrupt their shots. Darting forward, she slashes at the farmer on the right, keeping the other in sword range and using the pair for cover from the man in the back who seemed to be calling order.

Ah, sorry, that's what I get for posting after midnight.

Namara initiative: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 2 = 10

With her pack stowed on the cart, Namara is able to react swiftly to the farmer's cry. Her eyes lock on the archer to the west and she charges, sword leaping clear of its sheath as she slashes at the bandit.

"Stand down and you will be spared!" she yells, loud enough for the other archer to hear.

"I have able night sight, as well, and do not mind sitting the dark watch," Namara says. "Lacking a bow, I will take a position near the head of the column, where my javelins may be of use and my shield can provide a bulwark for those who follow behind."

Namara would be relatively forthcoming about her own history and reasons for being in the North.

Also: Updated profile, removing 3 gp and adding special abilities to stat-line.

"Yes, a cart and a mule would help carrying food, as well. Barshan was generous to see us off with so much, but I do not look forward to carrying it along with everything else."

Namara secured the thick pouch of fragrant tea leaves in her satchel as she made her way to the caravan. She'd spent a silver coin on the tea, which felt extravagant, but she didn't expect to have access to civilized food and drink any time soon.

She quickened her step when she realized the others were waiting for her.

"Peace be upon you, good merchant. May Fate guide our steps and lead to a profitable journey," she said, hoping to calm Barshan's impatience.

Stowing her gear on the cart, Namara decided to walk for a while, blocking out the gnome's incessant chattering as she had once blocked out the howling of the desert winds.

"As the Loregiver said: The wise caliph accepts no volunteers as harem guards," Namara says, her suspicions confirmed. "The priestess's unwillingness proves her suitability."

Namara wasn't sure what to think of the dwarves, who seemed overly intent on the gold. And some of the others, including the gnome and the arcanist with the shaved head, were even stranger.

"The light of the sun shines pure from the heavens, allowing all to see clearly. Let the priestess carry the contract, and let us all pray she is favored by Fate to see the end of our journey."

Namara tried not to let disappointment show on her face. The money wasn't much, split six ways, and less considering they'd get only half up front. But she'd made nothing during her time in Waterdeep up to now, and the trail had gone cold. This, at least, was a ticket out of the city and an opportunity to search for fresh leads.

"I am at your service, Master Gordrenn, and may it be a fruitful endeavor for all involved," Namara says, favoring the rest of the table's occupants with a swift glance.

Hmm. Can't access the map, which appears to require a Myth-Weavers log-in.

Namara keeps her smile in place as the barmaid brings the bread and cheese, which appeared to be of the pungent, cow's milk variety the northerners preferred. Edible, at least, and for once not paired with pig, or fried in pig grease, or wrapped around a sausage of ground pig ...

"Hot water is fine, I brought my own tea," she says, pulling a small pouch from her pack and shaking a measure of the pungent leaves into a silver ball, punched through with holes, which she drops into the steaming water.

Hopefully this 'G' is generous with his payment, or I'll be drinking boiled water or cheap spirits like these around me ... and let Fate smile upon us, and he is interested in as strange a company as this ...

Namara wrinkled her nose as she entered the place the local barbarians called the Yawning Portal. The smell had not improved since the previous evening, although the raucous clientele had thinned noticeably, and the reek of alcohol had a stale smell.

Like a cross between a harem and a livestock auction at the bazaar ... or a latrine pit.

At least those that remained were no longer in the uninhibited throes of drink, as they were last night during the wedding party. The participants certainly had seemed to enjoy themselves, but she wondered how any of them would show their faces in public again after some of the bawdy displays and general drunkenness.

Ah, be humble before the gods, Namara, she chided herself. We have no Fate but the Fate we are given. The barbarians did not choose to be born unenlightened. It is now your Fate to walk among them.

And if the coin provided by working for this "G" allowed her to continue her search for the infidels who despoiled her clan's shrine, a few hours among the unclean was a small thing to endure.

Treading carefully past puddles of spilled ale and ... other things ... Namara made for the table where a small group appeared to be gathered. She spied a pair of dwarves - so unlike the well-manicured stout folk of her homeland - and two women.

One of the women appeared to be a servant of the heathen sun god, a crude imitation of wise Kor, unsharpened by the teachings of the Loregiver, but better than some of the faiths she'd encountered in the cold north. Walking up to the table, Namara smiled and introduced herself.

"Peace be upon you. I am Namara, a fellow sojourner and, I suspect, fellow supplicant to our prospective patron. May I join you as you share salt?"

Glancing suspiciously at the food and drink laid upon the table, she tried to catch the eye of the barmaid.

"Do you have some hot water, for tea? And bread, perhaps with some olives or nuts?"

I switched Namara over to the slot system, as it looks like it will be beneficial once she starts adding to her load. She'll still need to drop her pack before fighting to avoid the medium load movement penalty.

Sure thing.

I moved the weight of my clothes into the "always on" column.

As for the backpack: The PHB has an asterisk noting that, in addition to the 30 pound internal capacity, you strap additional equipment on the outside of the backpack, specifically noting bedroll, rope, etc. I've marked those strapped items with an *. So I should be able to shrug off the full 61 lbs in one go.

Thanks for the selection. Checking in here with Namara. Encumbrance should be good to go in a spoiler on her alias.

Don't forget me!

Here is tribeof1's submission: Namara al-Nasr.

I tweaked my idea a bit after reading the Far Wanderer background in the Sword Coast Adventurer's Guide. I could end up going Oath of Devotion or Oath of Vengeance at 3rd level, depending on how jaded my transplant from the Land of Fate becomes here among the heathens.