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Muiu Thral, the “City of a Thousand Streets.” So-called because of the innumerable darkened, twisting alleys that crawl between its closely packed buildings. This port city lies on the north coast of Iskandria at the mouth of the Emerald River, and serves as Iskandria’s primary point of contact with the outside world. Every day, ships arrive at Muiu Thral from across the Sea of Serenity, carrying trade goods from around the world. Barges carry these goods upriver to the capital of Jhansi, and thence by caravan on the Great Road across the spur of the Erm Hyar Mountains to the trade city of Sadhrakand.
The city is a bustling port and marketplace, filled with people of all races from across Iskandria and around the world. The lands around the city have been cleared for farming, but outlying farms fight a constant battle against the encroaching wall of the Viridian Jungle. Muiu Thral is an old city, perhaps the oldest settlement in Iskandria after Lost Yaduu. Its buildings reflect millennia of architectural styles, and newer constructions are often built right on top of crumbling older structures. Obviously, the upper classes tend to reside in the upper levels of the city, leaving the decaying undercity to the poor and the dispossessed. The city’s subterranean catacombs are ancient beyond belief, and folk warn against delving too far into their forgotten depths, lest one encounter the fell beasts and vile things said to make their homes there now, and are best left undisturbed.
You have all come to Muiu Thral for your own reasons: adventure, a new life, a mission, or because you had no other choice. Some of you have been here for a while, some have only recently arrived. You were fortunate to have a few coins in your purse, and were able to acquire at least temporary lodgings in the Khemair district of the city. It’s not the most posh area in the city, but it’s not quite the slums either (though they’re not far away). It’s a place for a start.
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Near your lodgings, you discovered Bedu’s Parlour of Delights, a welcoming place run by the fat and friendly dwarf barber Bedu. You’ve been spending some time there lately, a shady respite from the day’s heat, sipping bitter coffee and listening to the stories that are bandied about by the regulars and Bedu himself. Recently, the stories have taken on a more local theme than normal: some of the more affluent citizens and merchants of Khemair district have been burned alive after spontaneously bursting into flame. Or rather, its seems that they are being murdered, for foul sorcery is suspected of immolating these worthies with arcane fire. Thus far, the curious plague seems to have restricted itself to the upper levels of society, but who knows where it might lead? If some diabolical sorcerer is responsible, where might he turn his ire next?
For Bedu:
For Pindara:
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The day is winding to a close, and Bedu is closing up his shop. The stories and talk have been particularly good today, and no one seems to want to go home. Someone suggests continuing the conversation at a nearby tavern, the Murdered Manticore.
Six of you decide to go: Bedu the barber, Liet the scholar, Pindara the potter, Skittle the gnome, the hunter Indo, and Jaku the warrior. Inside the street door of the Murdered Manticore, a short flight of stone steps leads down to a curtained archway. You push aside the heavy curtain and duck through the low archway, into a cavernous cellar with vaulted ceilings. Yellow and red lanterns hang from the ceiling, providing dim illumination. The walls are hung with tapestries and thick rugs line the floor.
The interior is cool, and filled with the murmur of conversation. Patrons sit on cushions around low tables, talking and drinking, or smoking hookahs. A couple of tables are being entertained by veiled, silken-clad dancers, hips shaking and coin belts jingling to the accompaniment of a sitar. A few barmaids weave their way among the tables, and a tall, dark-skinned man with a crooked nose is tending bar.
You make your way to a free table and sink down on the comfortable cushions. A red-haired barmaid soon comes over and places a small bowl of scented water in front of each of you. “What would you like?” she asks.
Liet is a small, lean man with pale skin, well-manicured hands, close cropped black hair. He has brown eyes, a long, narrow nose and full lips framed by a well-trimmed moustache and goatee courtesy of Bedu the Barber. He is wearing white robes and a pair of soft soled shoes.
Liet smiles at the barmaid, “Some lamb shawarma would be nice. Please heavy on the onions and the pepper. Oh … and some coffee. Extra sweet, please.”
Indo is a medium-height human with dark skin and eyes. His hair is fastened into a top-knot after the fashion of journeymen from his tribe. He wears very light armor and carries a massive blade; a simple leather scabbard is slung across his back to make rapid movement through the jungles of Iskandria possible. When he speaks, it is in a low-toned voice with the accent of his people.
Please, I could eat no more. I have already enjoyed the hospitality of the kind barber. And to think I thought I was going to starve in this town before I could find work.
I will stay a time for the company, but I must look for a caravan or farm soon to continue to eat.
Bedu shakes his head at Indo.
"Please, here is Muiu to day you are my guest. Two more of what my good friend Liet wishes to eat and drink, but less onions please. Many make a fool of me." The fat and neatly dressed dwarf blushes down his lovely sideburns and chins.
His wide sash seems to be be in a constant battle with his stomach. A battle it is losing. When the meals arrive, he pushes one in front of Indo and asks the serving girl for another large cushion, since he is a bit low to the table.
Within easy reach of Bedu's right hand is a scimitar in a worn wooden scabbard.
Pindara considers briefly before saying "Spiced chai. Please." she adds as an afterthought.
An attractive, dark-haired woman with a serious expression, she tends to get quite intense in conversation and debate.
The large, dark-skinned man looks humbled by your generosity. Perhaps one day you will eat at my table, and I will repay your kindness as well as I can, kind Bedu.
He looks around the table and says before eating, Some of us came for continued conversation. Are many of those who came friends here?
for the DM
My languages are listed on the profile page, already. If you think the Umbotu might have their own language, I will gladly throw out Giant.
Also, I would like my papers to reflect that I am from Sadhrakand. It's close enough to the jungle I can fake familiarity.
Bedu points with his spoon at the others naming them. "Lite and Skittle you met today. These are two more friends of mine, Jaku the hunter and Pindara who makes pots. We have heard many stories of the city and the places beyond."
"Did they take your details as you entered the city, Indo?"
Pindara's eyes narrow as the man asks about how they know one another.
Why's he so interested? she thinks.
My people live in the wilds, but we are no strangers to paper, kind Bedu. Even so, it seems one cannot go anywhere these days without being prepared to present them. They took the name of my homeland, though I suspect the men at the city's gates had never heard of it. It is old and difficult to pronounce.
Despite the rough leather and cheap clothes he wears, you notice Indo has some manners. He covers his mouth while he talks and keeps his fingers free of grease with a soiled cloth. He assesses the room while he talks, noting movement and tuning into other conversations dutring moments of silence.
He didn't learn those habits in the wild.
"Well, that's the way things are," replies Pindara, "They have to check we're who we say we are,"
She taps her fingers impatiently on the table, waiting for her tea.
"Of course, I am a barber and a dwarf from Uttar Keferet. My plan is to one day put down my shaving and see if I can make my fortune in the jungles and tombs of this land."
"As for secrets, I wish. Anyway Indo have you heard of the people burning in flames, from the highest quarter of Muiu. There are rumours of a curse but can this be true. maybe the papers at the gates are a sign that the authorities want to find a rogue sorcerer who is setting fire to the rich and famous."
"I pay no more mind to this than the rumour than many deformed babies are being born in the city and that is a curse on the midwives from the goddess Lamashtu."
Bedu has finished his meal and instinctively watches the others eat.
"They say don't believe everything you hear, but I reckon there's something to it. But who's to say what's causing it?" Pindara says casually.
"I doubt the judges care. It will become a hotter place for anyone not registered and practising magic in Muiu Thrall. Thankfully I am registered but then I am an honest man. It can be hoped that the evil cause of the burnt nobles is found and found soon. Or the life of a hidden magician will become much harder soon."
Bedu watches the rest carefully.
"Of course, do you now that my father sent me here in disgrace. Yes me! Who can believe such a thing? There was a mistake in the forging of a lance and that mistake cost a prominent officer his promotion. My father helped make sure I was not imprisoned but sometimes it is wise to leave a place of danger. Wouldn't you agree, Pindara?"
Indo is clealry trying not look hungry as he eats in forced moderation. His focus on the food before him would be comical if it did not seem so sad.
He places the large onion peels away from his meat, and takes a bite. Covering his mouth while he chews, he says I know nothing of the troubles of this city, but if it is like other cities, I imagine that politics and money are at the root of it. It is nice to blame some mysterious force, but how many of the rogue sorcerers can there be? Those born with the gift are pressed into service. Those not pressed are killed as children. Surely the enemies of the rani grow fewer every day. Then again, perhaps it accounts for desperation.
Perhaps also, the rani punishes political opponents who aid such rebels. If so, being burned alive would send a strong message.
But as I say, I know little of affairs within the city's gates. I side with money and political power as the source of such suffering, and I hope not to become the enemy of those who could set me afire with a gesture.
Having spoken too long about things I know nothing about, I will say that for a disgraced man, you seem wealthy. You have your shop, and are surrounded by friends. It is pleasing that 'disgrace' did not erase your character, as it does with some.
What do they know?! Who mentioned sorcerers? What are they driving at?
"I don't really know anything about that sort of thing. It's a bit beyond me. Was it difficult coming here, for you Bedu?"
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The barmaid brings your drinks and foods, and takes away the finger bowls. Occasionally she wanders by to see if you need anything else.
As the evening progresses, more people fill up the tables, mainly merchants and shopkeepers, but occasionally a common laborer as well. The atmosphere takes on a distinct haze from the hookah smoke.
For Indo:
Umbuto probably wouldn't be a separate language; more likely it's a dialect of Iskandrian (an OLD language), so need to change anything.
"Jaku and Pindara, pleased to meet you. And also you, Indo."
"It is entirely probable that the Cult of Lamashtu is active in the city. That is what is causing all these deformed births. Lamashtu is called the Mother of Monsters." Liet takes a sip of the sweet coffee and sighs his approval.
Making sure that no one other than his companions can overhear his words, "Tis time for some plain speaking, friend Bedu. You mentioned seeking your fortune in the jungles. I'd aslo seek mine there. You see looking for investors in this school project of mine is very difficult. Many rich folk don't see the need to educate the masses. They see it as being counterproductive to the interests of the state."
Indo lowers his voice also, looking at each of you as he speaks. It is dangerous business, friends, making your fortune in the jungle. But if you have the resources to acquire one, it is worthwhile to hire yourselves a guide.
He sits back and scouts the closest of the tavern's patrons before continuing. I have come to you from the jungle. I have never been there, but I have seen in passing the fortunes of which you speak. It is more dangerous to seek that fortune for a few days that to spend a full summer in the jungle naked and alone. Would you risk such danger to finance your dream, my friend?
His gaze is challenging, but you suspect he approves.
"A guide would be good. Your mission, Liet, is something to praise and money would smooth the path to its completion."
Bedu calls for the nearby hookah to be prepared and brought closer. "A pipe may help be decide if I am ready."
"I have a question, where would we go?"
DM Spoiler
"I have heard tell of strange fierce monkeymen in the jungles. Is this so?" Bedu continues as he relaxes. Every now and then, he carefully smoothes the hair on his chin.
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Bedu:
And don't worry about being patient, it was really directed at everyone else. :)
BTW, do you know your skill roll linked to the SRD Climb skill?
Surprised by the rapid turn in the conversation to treasure hunting, the potter says "Well, good luck with that. People like me can't really go off into who know what to chase tales."
DM:
Knowledge Local = 10, rather than the other link which was for someone in my game.
Forgive me if you feel left out, young lady. But also please do not misunderstand me. I am not speaking of mere treasure-hunting.I believe the implication was that these gentlemen wish to add to their fortunes by exploring for knowledge and riches. And they seem to desire to use what they gain to add to the resources of your great city.
My people have a saying, Ik nod idumi fuma, which is to say 'your dreams will find you in your lifetime'. How big will your dreams be when you have a chance to face them?
Hey someone tell me again how I roll dice? If you don't want to interrupt the role-play, feel freeto email me at ancientsensei/gmail. Good to be playing with you all. If we suffer stragglers, let me know and I'll hit up shane.
"No such thing as a monkeyman, guide? Excellent. Good, then I can relax. What of curses, I heard tell of a tomb to a rich princess which every robber went in a man and came out a young girl. A young girl that was mute and very pretty so it had it's uses on the slave market."
Bedu lets the smoke slowly pours down from his nostrils.
I have never heard of your 'princess curse', my friend. But I will confirm that very old tombs are said to be rife with such things. Then again, the grandest curse I have experienced in all my days in the jungle has been rather large mosquitos.
To be sure, such mosquitos are not to be heard of lightly. They kill with a slow, burning itch. Your eyes water even as you fall into a deathly sleep. It is best to find someone skilled in the healing arts if we are to venture for more than a few days.
Skittle comes in a few minutes behind everyone, and grabs a seat. His unkempt red hair and fierce eyes suggests someone quick to temper, and perhaps more than a little unbalanced. With a laugh, he looks at Bedu and says, "Monkey-men? Monkey-goblins is more like it!" Turning his head he yells, "Woman, bring me a beer and someone chicken, too!" Then he turns back to those at the table, yelling, "Ha! Monkey-men! Do you hear that father!" Then with a startling quickness, he slams a kukri down into the center of the table, making everyone's plates and glasses jump. With much lower voice he continues throw gritted teeth, "If it's a guide you need, it's a guide I'll be, but I have no interest in treasure. I just want my revenge, and that means killing every last one of those furry demons that lives and breathes."
Bedu's eyebrow arches at the savage kukri.
"Please, my friend, I would wish knives to remain hidden so that our meal can be most pleasant. Here have some of this, it is very good."
The barber passes the pipe over to the gnome. Once re-settled the dwarf smiles and starts to talk again.
"Do you know that I once met a man who's desert caravan had met with a special oasis. The oasis was home to a beautiful woman. She played the loveliest music for him and his friends. The sounds and emotions they caused brought tears to every man's eyes.
But that woman would not leave because she said she one day hoped to make the most beautiful music ever on her zither.
For many years after the caravan tried to find that special oasis but never did he see the lovely lady again. However he said that on the coldest and darkest of desert nights, the distant sound of lovely music seemed to keep him awake, from time to time."
"Such a pretty but sad tale Skittle, to always chase after that which it is impossible to have. Don't you agree?"
In a soothing voice, Liet addresses Skittle, "Brother, there is no need for violence here. You are among friends. Calm youself and be at peace."
The barber passes the pipe over to the gnome. Once re-settled the dwarf smiles and starts to talk again.
"Great!" Skittle says with wide eyes and a big smile, accepting the pipe from Bedu.
"Such a pretty but sad tale Skittle, to always chase after that which it is impossible to have. Don't you agree?"
"I would agree, Bedu. What a lunatic to chase after a mystery women he met in the desert." Turning to the others, he adds, in hushed tones, while making a circular movement with his hand next to his head, "Clearly, there was something not quite right with the bloke."
In a soothing voice, Liet addresses Skittle, "Brother, there is no need for violence here. You are among friends. Calm youself and be at peace."
"I saw a sign once on the back of a carriage that said something about 'To know peace, know justice' or some such drivvle. But thank you for your concern," Skittle says. Then whispering, he adds, "Sometimes I get a little carried away, iz'all."
As the gnome draws his kukri, Jaku, who has been sitting quietly, drops a hand to his scimitar. When he realizes that the only victim of violence will be a table, he relaxes.
He gestures for coffee, since he sees that this conversation will be long.
"Treasure hunting," he muses quietly, "my father will be so... proud."
"Well, justice cannot be exacted if one is in jail because one attracted the wrong sort of attention."
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Several heads turn at the gnome's outburst, but when he calms down, people look away again, and the sound of convsersation of rises.
The bartender points at your table, and one of the dancing girls makes her way towards you.
Everyone make Spot checks.
For example: Test roll (1d20=6)
Feel free to ask if you have ny questions! :)
Spot Check DC 10
Spot Check DC 15
Liet stares at the dancing girls. Completely distracted.
I'm in a den of crazy people! thinks Pindara as she sees the altercation between the man and the dancer. I thought Bedu might be a sympathetic ear, but there's something not right about him...
"So, er, what are you hoping to find out there in these tomb things?" she asks.
Bedu's focus is split between his table of friends and the surroundings. He occasionally wafts the smoke away to clear the view.
But he tries to focus on the people around the table more.
"Please how goes the pots business, Pindara?"
Clearly, anything unusual in the tavern is going on behind Indo.
There is coin, of course. But the richest coin is not in gold, but knowledge. Not only might there be some hidden treasure form a buried noble, but more importantly, the preserved art and literature of a bygone era would bring in mor gold in the form of investors and politicians. A city this size - a place of learning is ripe for political opportunity. Celebrities will want to make a name for themselves endorsing or opposing it. Wealthy families will compete with money and favors just to be thought of as the grand vizier who brought them such a prestigious gift.
Indo stops to evalute your expressions. He tilts his head and says, What?
"Thank you, Indo. From where you sitting you did not see the domestic argument across the room. The man did not get his own way and so is a little irritated. Such is life."
Bedu keeps a small eye on the woman but returns to his question, "Pindara I see that the pots business is good. I have heard that Ben alla Crisani sold his entire winter work to the Kush jungle traders. Soon they will come calling on you, perhaps?"
Bedu looks around for more sweetmeats, and claps his hands for assistance, pointing at everyone.
"No more sweetmeats for me. Thank you. A refill would be better."
Pindara misses bedu's question about pots and glares in horror at the burnt-face man.
"Did you see that?" she asks.
"Yes. And a refill for my friend here."
"Pindara, your honourable outrage could get you into trouble one day. But I admire you for it, my darling."
Having just started to dig in to his meal, Skittle looks up. "Huh? What's that? Did I miss something interesting?"
I have had quite enough, thank you. I am not accustomed to such spoiling. I must find a place to stay for the evening and sleep off this lavish meal if I am to look for supplies for our journey.
Indo stands and lifts his pack and scabbard from the floor. His blade is long and heavy, with a severe curve at the end. The scabbard might have served him well, but it is scarred and torn, revealing a chipped blade underneath. He places his hands together as if in prayer and bows to each of you in turn. He bows the lowest before Bedu and Pindara.
How many shall I prepare for? And who will bring the gold to outfit our party?