Oblivious to the Kirrish's distress and the escalating hostility, Aso digs at a particularly vexing flea that has been having at his balls.
The sandy mantis-creature slowly pulls himself together, his movements becoming still and graceful once more.
Thri-kreen:
Declaration: This one collected. We go.
"Yes, let's go."
Holdrus hands Kirrish a large chunk of Jankx meat and says, "It's alright, friend, we have all gone through alot. It is hard to stay "collected" in the face of so much anger, pain, and loss. If you need help, you have but to ask. Now lets get moving, we should make the city shortly."
"What do you know of pain? Of anger, or of loss?" Radik murmurs. In a louder voice, he expresses his opinion on the situation.
"We should make haste."
"How much can we sell Radik for in the oddities market?"
Aso whispers: "he don't look healthy."
"How much can we sell Radik for in the oddities market?"
"The question is, how much can we get for that flea-ridden kneebiter that's been following us?"
"Malaki, how many days are we from Raam?"
"How much can we sell Radik for in the oddities market?"
"Sadly, in Raam HE probably won't be considered the odd one." Faindriac mutters to no one in particular. When Shenker looks up at the 'Bigen', he sees that Faindriac is not smiling.
At least, it doesn't look like he's smiling,...
:D
Hrrmmm....hrrm hrrmm....(cough...hack....)
I don't think I thank you had it in your.
"Malaki, how many days are we from Raam?"
MalaKi replies, “We are less than a half day’s travel from the dread city Raam.” He gives his companions a flat stare and states bluntly, “There’s a reason they call it the city of the dead.”
Off to a late start after figuratively (or in Aso’s case, literally) licking their physical and psychological wounds, the party travels the remainder of the evening in relative peace, barely even talking amongst themselves. The stony barrens give way more and more to scrub plains, and the welcome scents and sounds of vibrant life begin to reach the party as Raam looms ever larger.
As they near the city and the path becomes more developed, the party reaches a small crossroads between heavily picketed fields. Strangely, the slaves here seem to be tending the fields even at night, though they move with a decidedly sluggish gait; not altogether surprising if they work around the clock!
Lined up from the currently closed gate almost to the perpendicular junction where you currently stand, are two long, straight lines of people of all occupations and classes, similarly waiting to enter the city. As the party mills about, deciding whether to join the line or not, a small knot of elves engages in an intense argument. One of the elves, dressed differently than the others, stands back, pointing and laughing, before dropping over stone dead. Green froth leaks from his mouth as they strip him clean of possessions and leave him in the road for the desert animals to consume, as is their way. Knowing elves, chances are good he was “trying to cast a protective spell in his own garden.” *
Great bone horns momentarily deafen you, signaling the official beginning of the Raaman day, while twin tandem teams of half-giants work the long bars of the stone gates, opening the city for trade. As the sun begins a slow ascent, you manage a better look at the slaves working the field, and discover the workers aren’t shambling from exhaustion. Every field hand is a vision of undeath; slaves worked to passing, and then risen into service beyond.
Standing near a stone road sign, you notice a bedraggled half-elven man taking a particular interest in your group. He walks up to you coolly, asking if you need a guide into the city while making a peculiar coughing motion into his hand.
Sense Motive DC 15:
Sense Motive DC20:
sense motive r8 nope!
Kirrish looks over the half-elf warily. He says nothing and barely gives any indication that he understands what was said.
"hrrrrmmm...."
Umm, we may but I will allow my companions to respond.
Sense motive-1d20=3 *Holdrus wonders if the group smells that bad.
Aso is going to jostle with the others for standing in back. He conceals his precious elf score under the filthy elf shirt.
Radik's slowly ebbing cocky jerk-ness comes rushing back as the motley band reaches the mass of people. Muscling his way to the front of the group of escaped slaves, the fighter raises his club threateningly, peering around menacingly through his violet eyes.
Baring his filed teeth and flexing his muscles, he announces to anyone listening,
"I have arrived."
"I have arrived."
sense motive didn't work. The post disappeared.
Start up convo with the 1/2 elf:
"hrrmmm....a guide would be nice, maybe; where are the women of ill repute? Nudge, wink; and a whaddya think?"
"Malaki, how many days are we from Raam?"MalaKi replies, “We are less than a half day’s travel from the dread city Raam.” He gives his companions a flat stare and states bluntly, “There’s a reason they call it the city of the dead.”
** spoiler omitted **
Zuko looks to the horizon as he says to Malaki, with almost slight hint of sadness and regret, "I know why they call it the City of the Dead."
Kirrish starts imitating the half-elf's coughing motion with his top arms, figuring maybe this is a greeting or something.
Faindriac looks intensely at the newcomer, looking for a moment as if he is trying to peer through him.
Sense motive on 'greeter' (1d20+1=17)
But he is distracted as he is knocked aside by Radik moving towards the front of the group, and his odd declaration.
When he returns his attention the half-elf, he seems confused, as if he knows there is something he should be remembering,...
Zuko moves to the side to observe the greeter. Can he be a member of the Yellow Monastery? Better wait and see. Can't afford to prematurely disclose my affiliation.
Faindriac is mildly startled when his PsiCrystal, Cair D'Niaf, whispers something to him. The Crystal's thoughts had been a reassuring presence in the back of his mind since it's recovery. But it was still damaged and conserving it's strength, so it had been unusually silent on this journey.
'Dragon-Kings CURSE that addle-pated excuse for a mentalist and her brain-scrambling concoction!' Slidell fumed even as he began to return what his psicrystal had reminded him was a cautious greeting from one member of the Veiled Alliance to another. 'Perhaps I should ask the Lords of Raam to Revivify the fool, so I can have the pleasure of killing her again?!'
At a panicked thought from Cair D'Niaf, Faindriac almost smiled. 'No. That would only place me in MORE dept to another. And I have have had enough of that already!' He silently assured his cracked companion.
In the rising sun, Faindriac shades his eyes with his hand, hiding his eyes from sight. And when he is sure that the half-elf has noticed the gesture, nods slightly.
"Yes. A friendly guide would be most welcome." He says aloud.
The man appears startled for a moment when Faindrac returns the gesture, but then visibly relaxes and blows out a sigh of relief, exclaiming, “Thank the Spirits of the Land, it is you! I was beginning to lose hope.”
Catching himself in a moment of weakness, the half-elf bristles, voice dripping with sardony, “But so many of you. The Tyrian branch never was much for subtlety.”
“The kank was a dead giveaway. How many scruffy runaway slaves can afford a kank?” Not wanting to appear too harsh though, the man continues, “Fantastic disguises. Incredible, other than the kank. You look….horrible! Are they magically assisted? No, no, best not to tell me too much.”
“Quickly, come with me, we can’t talk here.”
The man begins to walk towards the city, but diagonally away from the gate, beckoning you to follow. Loudly, he states, “It is your lucky day, for you can afford to pay Taldare ! You’d be in line all day without my services.”
Staring, the other city goers smirk at the gullible rubes being taken in by the “guide.”
Aso looks Faindriac over with a newfound respect, although the lingering distrust of 'bigjobs' remains.
Faindriac turns to the others of his little 'clutch'.
"It would seem that we have successfully negotiated for the services of a local guide. Shall we proceed?" He asks the others while holding out his arm in an 'after you' gesture.
If he is smiling, or smirking, it is well hidden behind his usual serious countenance. If anything he looks more perplexed than proud. He turns and steps quickly to follow their newly acquired 'guide'.
Schenker follows. He falls further and further to the rear, and off to the right side of the group.
He'll look around. He's attracted by shiny things, by jingly sounds, and by smells of either perfume or cooking dainties. He's drawn by shadows, or open windows falling in shadowy areas.
When the mekillot bites
When the janxs stings
When I'm feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don't feel so bad
Kirrish will follow, keeping his eyes on the half-elf and Glurrsku-skruk the kank at his side on a rope leash. His antennae taste the air with enthusiasm, and he does his best to avoid being overwhelmed by the fresh sights, sounds and smells of the city. If he has an opinon of the walking dead in the fields, he's kept it to himself.
Come, little warrior. *Gestures to Aso* We should stick together so as not to get lost.
;)
Radik continues to stride at the head of the group as if he owns the town.
Schenker scouts gowks drawn in to look at Radik's showy presence. The slightest eensiest slip in concentration from a money belt he's going to yoink it.
Skarsnikt wanders alongside the other insectoid party members, staring goggle-eyed at the throngs of people. "Fortunate Fandriac met local friend", he says to nobody in particular. "This hive big; navigation difficult here."
Aso eyes food in any kiosks that the party passes by. Holdrus will have to tug at his shirt to keep his from straying.
As Zuko walk with the rest of the party, he keeps an eye out for any sign of the Yellow Monastery. He keeps the falchion ready.
hmm; 12 untrained sense motive + stat; not to good.
Kha=Chik's feathers appear ruffled as she is disgusted by this place and very nervous; she will stand a bit closer to the bugs and try to appear calm and confident. Without moving any closer she reviews the dead elfs actions and looks at his coloring to figure out what may have happened.
heal 14 +4
Without moving any closer she reviews the dead elfs actions and looks at his coloring to figure out what may have happened.
The elf was unquestionably poisoned; something virulent but with a delayed effect. You have a few ideas what it may have been, but nothing definite.
The half-elf leads the party around the side of the city, out of view of the public entering the gates, and directly beneath one of the large guard towers. To acquire a fair view of the party where they are standing, the watch would practically have to hang over the wall betwixt the crenellations.
“I don’t think any patrols will be by this area for a while. I couldn’t take you through the gate, as the dead are on duty today.”
“Incorruptible templars; what is this world coming to?,” the man snorts.”
“Quickly now, everyone join hands,” he states brusquely, holding out his own hands.
Do it.
No tricks or it will be on your head.
*joins hands*
Kirrish inclines his head in puzzlement, but notes that several clutchmates have done as the thin-shell asked, so he'll follow along in the interest of clutch unity. He moves Gllurrskku-Skruk's leash to one of his lower arms and joins upper hands with the rest of the group.
Skarsnikt joins hands with the other party members as well.