Confounded, Sihdrin will walk back to where the group and Garavel are gathered and explain what he found (not much).
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Sihdrin is already wandering the perimeter of the camp, so he will help Hazem.
Sihdrin grunts and leaves the rude man alone... though he will find a shady spot and observe from a distance.
Sihdrin will approach the filthy man, hoping to get a better look at him and to see what he is scuffling at. "Oi there, what are you searching for?"
Sihdrin will walk the perimeter of the camp while making a headcount to see if anyone else is missing. He'll also look to see if there are any obvious tracks leading to or from the camp.
"Garavel, perhaps you can help us concieve a possible motive. We all have our own reasons for wanted to find Kelmarane, but what of the expedition? Who sponsors it, and do they have foes who would see it fail? Or maybe a personal vendetta... who was Eloais?"
Sihdrin will make sure his horse is securely tied, in a shady spot if possible, fed and watered before proceeding to the princess's tent.
Once the wagon is clear, I'll spur my horse over to whoever needs the most help. If its the final goat, I'll run him down and chase back to the herd.
Sihdrin will try to coordinate all the people trying to move the wagon into one simultaneous push. "Hopefully, together, we can nudge it forward! On my mark... one, two, three... MUSH!"
And are you rolling a strength check for the horse or for yourself?
Sihdrin will continue to try and help move the wagon. If the rope/saddle plan is a dismal failure, he'll jump down and put his back into it.
As Alfred appears to be taking care of the livestock, Sihdrin will run over to help pull the wagon away from the fire. If it will work, he will loop a rope around his saddle, tied to the wagon, to lend his horse's strength to the task.
Sihdrin will gallop over to the animal pens and try to use his horse to nudge the livestock towards the pen.
If we are able to get them under control, he will move on to the other wagon to either lend his back or pull with his horse to get it away from the fire.
After the pavilion is raised and we have our night meal, Sihdrin will spend some extra time brushing down his horse. He'll do a thorough examination to make sure he wasn't wounded in the melee. After that is done, he'll take off his clothes and take a swim in the lake to wash off the trail dust. He'll do the same for his clothes to get them clean.
Ready to continue on. Sihdrin will keep scouting a roaming perimiter around the caravan as we move... staying visual out to about 300 feet or so, depending on the terrain.
Sihdrin sneers in disdain at the gnoll corpses. "Filthy vermin. They plague the desert. Leave them for the vultures." "There may be more about. I will have a look." Sihdrin rides a wide perimeter around the battle site to see if any more gnolls are lurking in the rocks or shrubbery. When we continue on, Sihdrin will clean and sharpen his curveblade.
Sihdrin will move forward and charge from horseback when the gnolls are in range. If he gets too far ahead or outnumbered, he will withdraw to the group.
Sihdrin peers at the lurking thing, his elven vision helping to pierce throught the heat shimmering air. "It has golden fur, black spots. And there are more than one," he informs the others. He draws out his curveblade. "Animals, perhaps? Maybe we can scare them away."
Sihdrin will remain alert, even though the journey has been uneventful so far. He smiles at the damp weather. "Rains are a good omen in the desert - you can see how quickly the greens appear after the rainfall. The land comes alive where it was in hibernation. Stay wary, though - predators are likewise drawn to the new life."
Despite Garavel's assertions that we are safe, Sihdrin will still keep a sharp eye out on the horizons and along our path of travel. "Gnolls and bandits are not the only dangers of the desert..."
"Break fast while we ride," Sihdrin says smiling, handing Hazem a piece of horse jerky. The elf saddles his horse with a speed born of years experience and then hops into the saddle with a sigh of contentment. It is clear he is comfortable on the road.
Sihdrin will also help soothe the camels and get them ready for travel.
In that case, we can secure the camels outside in the best place possible, but I'll bring my horse into the pavilion.
"Do we have enough room in the pavilion for the mounts? It may be cramped and smelly, but sandstorms will scour and blind camels and horses as well as they would for us."
"Looks like a storm on the horizon..."
Sihdrin eyes the sky and scans the horizon. "If a sand storm is coming, perhap we should take cover in the shelter of the oasis, rather than continuing in the exposed open."
"Indeed, you are correct. Only the sun maddened travel in the open during the height of the day. Best we use the shade to rest, and continue in the afternoon."
Sihdrin will stay with the group as they move to the oasis, wary for trouble.
As we are both at the head of the caravan, Sihdrin takes a quiet moment to speak with Alfred. "I know nothing of Kelmarane, as I was too young when I left, to remember anything. What was the place like? What of its people - were they warriors, farmers, traders?"
Sihdrin looks at the offered camel and shakes his head with a small grin. However, he does take the offered supplies and loads them into his own horse's saddlebags. Whilst everyone is packing up for the day's travel, he watches Khasul at his practice, noting any new techniques and forms he might incorporate into his own blade fighting. Once we are underway, Sihdrin rides ahead with the vanguard, and keeps his eyes peeled for trouble - ambush chokepoints, movement on the horizon, anything that seems out of place or unnatural.
Sihdrin's eyebrows rise at the term flighty but he says nothing. He ties the camel's to their post and walks over to Garavel. "Hmmm..."
"This country is not well known to me." He looks to Alfred.
Sihdrin watches the exchange silently. Once the group starts to disperse, he says to Garavel. "Sir, I am at your disposal. If you require someone to care for the animals, or be an outrider to the caravan, I will happily oblige. After, he will aside to Alfred. "You remember my family? As you said, I was little more than a toddler when I left Kelmarane. I remember very little... images and feelings."
Sihdrin's eyes widen as Khasul and Marketus describe their abilities. "I have seen some magic in my travels, but I have no such talent. I am trained to use this," he taps the gilt handle of the beautiful elven curve blade hung from his back, "and I have some small knowledge of tactics and teamwork in combat. I would be happy to teach you."
Sihdrin nods to the others who are arriving, his new companions. His gaze is appraising, though not distrustful.
A figure wrapped nearly head to toe in loose folds of white desert clothing rides up to the caravan atop a sandy brown warhorse. Until he nears and dismounts, you don't realize that the rider is nearly seven feet in height. As he nimbly dismounts, he immediately drops to a knee, facing the dawning sun, and says a humble prayer to Sarenrae. Once finished his morning prayer, the rider stands and removes the turban fold from his face. You see he has sharp elven features, with pale skin and dark blue eyes that appear nearly violet. He bows his head to Garavel. "I am Sihdrin, warrior of the Badawi, Ukhuwwa al Asad... Order of the Lion. I am here to join your caravan to Kelmarane."
I would say that Alfred and Sihdrin would know each other as both are wanderers by nature, and Alfred would have wanted to maintain whatever connection to Kelmerane he could, even if he never mentioned it to Sihdrin until the elf brought it up. Certainly, prehaps if my tribe visited your druid circle regularly, we may have met before.
A tall elf riding a dusty-brown warhorse pulls the turban scarf from his face to reply. "I am from Kelmarane, though I do not remember much of it. I was little more than a child when I left."
I tried posting a couple hours ago but the board imploded and took my message. >.< Still, happy to be with a new group! =D For Sihdrin, I'll happily change his campaign trait to 'Gnoll Killer' for some variety. It won't change too much of his backstory, and would make sense as part of a horse-borne warrior tribe. DM, just let me know if you have a preference one way or the other. Either way, I didn't think through the age issue very much before, but a hundred years is a pretty long time. Figure he was a young child (not just a babe) when the town was destroyed and his parents slain, or last seen.
Here's my elven cavalier. The profile is updated, but I posted the bits below for ease of access! Looks like there's already some good ideas floating around... I hope I get picked! Stats:
STR 16; DEX 14; CON 12; INT 10; WIS 10; CHA 14
hp 12 (base 10 +1 Con +1 favored class) Initiative +4 (+2 Dex, +2 trait) BAB +1; CMB +4; CMD 16 Fort +4; Ref +2; Will +0 Skills Diplomacy +6, Handle Animal +6, Intimidate +6, Ride +6 Feats Precise Strike [bonus], Weapon Focus (heavy blades) Traits Forlorn, Seeking Your Roots, Warrior of Old Special Challenge 1/day, Mount (horse...TBD), Tactician (1/day; 3 rounds), Order of the Lion (Valenar) Alternate Racial Trait Eternal Grudge (replaces Elven Magic)
Appearance:
Sihdrin is a male elf in the dawn of his adulthood. Although a century old, he is still young in comparison to the long span of elven lives. He is exceptional tall, standing just short of seven feet, and his lithe frame belies formidably physical strength. Sihdrin has black hair, worn long, but always trimmed and appropriately arranged. When riding, he usually keeps his hair in a decorated war braid. His large, elven eyes are darkest blue, almost violet, contrasting his pale skin. Sihdrin details his appearance impeccably. Whether due of an upbringing in the nobility or compulsive mentality, he will make pains to always wear the correct fashion, for the correct occasion, in the correct manner. Cleanliness and hygiene are very important, especailly in the wilds, and he will spend extra time maintaining his gear, clothes and weapons. Background:
Sihdrin does not know who his parents were. He was raised by human foster parents, part of a nomadic tribe of horse riders. As Sihdrin grew (slowly, compared to his human counterparts), he became a fierce warrior and protector of the tribe. Unfortunately, those who fostered him in his youth, and even his friends and peers, all grew old and died while Sihdrin was only passing his adolescence. The only link Sihdrin has ever had to his past is a masterfully wrought curveblade in the elven style. Sihdrin was told it was given by his parents on the day he was taken, but by the time he was old enough to learn, none of the nomads from that time yet lived. Sihdrin dedicated himself to mastering the elegant weapon, his only link to the past. Recently, one of his friends, the great-grandson of a tribal wisdom from the time when Sihdrin was adopted, found hints in the tribal records that pointed to the village of Kelmarane as the likely place where he was found. Curiosity overwhelmed Sihdrin, and he soon set out to find Kelmarane and hopefully reclaim a piece of his heritage. Equipment:
Sihdrin grunts, kicking the warforged corpsed with his toe to check if its still a threat. He wears a slight smile on his face, and the quick battle put a gleam in his eyes. He looks upon his new companions with a bit more respect. On guard, he will cautiously check what lay behind the door and the warforged.
"Stop trying to talk to the tinman and kill it!" Sihdrin growls, moving in to strike with his mace.
Sihdrin will continue to attack, shifting to maximize flanking positions with Klick and Nik'o.
In a flash of inspiration, Sihdrin sees the tactic play out in his mind's eye. Calling out orders to his companions, he orchestrates their attack. Sihdrin moves to square off against the warforged, hopefully allowing Klick and Nik'o to flank the opponent in a pincer to his left and right.
"Eventually, we will find out." Sihdrin continues towards the double doors.
Sihdrin shrugs, takes the clothes out and leaves them on the bed. He tosses the empty satchel over his shoulder. "Anything in the notes?"
Sihdrin snorts a bitter laugh. "Funny analogy... perhaps we are just rats in a maze." He walks over to the satchel and examines the contents carefully. "How could anyone live in this place? There are no windows to view the open sky," he laments.
Sihdrin takes a mouthful of the water and then passes the skin around to the others. "Let us check this door," he says, walking over to the door.
Sihdrin picks up the rope and coils it over his shoulder. He then takes the waterskin, pops the seal and sniffs. |