Oren Tor, a relatively short, young man with red hair and tanned skin, straightens as he hears the customary turmoil outside his tent. He takes a moment to remove his leather armor, wash the dust from his face and hands with water from a clean bowl and moves forward to the tent's opening.
"Quiet now, quiet my friends." He says to those waiting for his assistance. "As you know by now Sarenrae can only aid those who are in direst need. Any who would like the cooling touch of water, move to my right. Those who would accept the Dawnflower's blessing to my left."
He waits while the group organizes themselves and looks upon those who await his care with a practiced eye.
Among the members of the caravan is a slight young girl. Her eyes turned downwards as she follows towards the back. Her jet black hair flows straight down past her neck and her eyes match her hair. She wears simple linen clothes with her midriff bare and a long skirt that flows around her legs. Her arms show several small scars from previous lashings and her neck still bears a simple steel collar.
When the caravan leader calls for a halt for the day, Marossa breathes a sigh of relief and begins to sit before she hears the caravan leader calls for help with the camels. Stepping up quickly, Marossa keeps her voice quiet and level, "I will help Master"
One hand crosses her torso to hold her upper arm as she looks up for a moment. A slightly haggard look is evident in her eyes and her shoulders nervously roll as she waits to be told what to do.
Isz'd Flounderbag Kickaholeinthesoup reflected upon the weather as he stood in line for a shower and chewed on some jerky he found in a saddle bag earlier. Though he had been born in the lush jungles far from here, he had been surviving in this desertscape for quite some time, most of it traveling in one form or another. He had long since adapted to the weather, still, he had grown a certain distaste for mid day. It's largely why he traveled by night whenever he could.
He reflected upon his attire. A leather armor vest built to allow him to breath over a layer of lighter cloth, light green in color that tied off at the wrists and his boots. It almost seemed madness to cover this much skin in the heat, but as was explained to him when he first arrived in this climate, it's far better to bake than fry. The searing heat he felt when he touched the top of his leather cap was evidence of this. "I'm hot" he thought "but I'm not burning". The cap had a strap that hung down on each side of his head and a large pair of goggles affixed to the front. They had no glass, but he liked the look. He had seen it in a dream once...humans wearing these as they rode upon great iron bird-like constructs.
Beyond his style of dress, he seemed a common enough Goblin. Three feet tall almost exactly. His skin was the standard brownish-green of the jungle tribes, and his eyes were a burning deep orange-red. His left ear bore two cheep rings. Proof of the two tests of manhood his people put all the young men through. When he moved just right, you could also see the marks from his former collar still healing on his neck.
As much as he hated traveling by day, at least he was making steady distance from the charred remains of the alchemical supply lab and his former master. He wondered if anyone ever found his collar, hastily pried apart with a screwdriver among the wreckage.
He vividly remembered the flames, accented with bizarre colors and smells from the chemicals and potions in the lab. It was glorious, and the heat was so close he could still feel it...so...hot...
The sun pushed him past his limit and he dropped to one knee. Head swimming and more than a little ashamed of his weakness he stood fully again and moved to the other line.
Kesh was a strange individual. Scurrying around the caravan seeming to avoid sight but making himself useful whenever he could. He was small, barely three feet tall and he wore heavy robes and his head was hooded. His glowing green eyes peered out of the dark shadow that hid the rest of his features. Not once did he reveal himself to any member of the caravan.
In particular he avoided the cleric. He didn't trust members of the faith and went out of his way to avoid them whenever he could. The shouting man known as Cahal made him extra nervous as did the goblins. He did notice an old friend though. One he had known from his last home. A sort of a brother. He did not feel comfortable talking to him just yet. Instead he found himself hanging around a strange but attractive elf girl who looked as though she had suffered as much as he had. He found he followed her constantly. His major curiosity was the collar she wore on her neck. He would often silently help her with the work she did and would hide when someone he didn't trust would appear.
Oren kneels as the goblin who styled himself Isz approached. He still wasn't used to the idea that there were not just one but two goblins traveling in the caravan but he reminded himself that Sarenrae was the goddess of redemption. So long as the goblins didn't try to eat any of the caravan members they were living representatives of his Lady's will.
"The sun, for all its blessings, can be overmuch for even the strongest of us. If you would accept Sarenrae's gift, the Dawnflower will ease your suffering."
Oren touches his holy symbol with one hand and lifts the other over the head of the goblin, asking that Sarenrae might favor Isz with relief from the sun's oppressive heat.
He smiles as the miracle floods through his hand and into the goblin.
With a nod of satisfaction, Oren stands erect again and looks out into the crowd just as the strange, small figure he'd seen from time to time, wearing the heavy robes and hood even in this great heat, was scurrying away from him in the crowd. Sadly shaking his head he turned back to the others.
"Is there another who would accept Sarenrae's blessing?"
Ripnok has been having the time of his life with the group. He is out in the open, traveling, seeing the sun and genuinely enjoying the trip. He is not burdened by some of the others with the heat as his potions are able to relieve him. He has been amazed at the treatment that he and the other goblin have received. No one has spit on him or kicked him at all. That priest even healed the other one when he had fallen from the heat. He has tried to engage the other goblin but has had little opportunity. Perhaps when we camp tonight the opportunity will present itself.
As the crowd wanders off, satisfied with the water Oren was able to supply and the Dawnflower's gift of endurance, he turned his attention to eating a simple supper of dried fruits and meats and more water.
As was his custom, he cleared a space outside his tent and invited any and all of his fellow travelers to sup with him and share company for a time before retiring.
He still felt the heat, but he didn't care about it as much. With the return of his endurance, so came his mind.
"Thank you Bones, I'll be sure to pay more attention to the readings from the surface before I beam down with an away party in the future."
He than scuttled off to catch and snap up a few lizards and scorpions, gnaw on a cactus (the trick is to chew a lot) and drink as necessary from his water skin.
Finally he made his way beck to the cleric, taking advantage of the invite by Oren. With half of a particularly fat lizard in one hand and a slice of wanderbread in the other, he sat with the cleric.
This is someone he wanted to stay on the good side of if he was to survive out here. He figured he'd best start with some kind words.
"S'up" Isz said with a big, toothy Goblin grin "I hope no one eats you today."
The loose fitting clothes of his desert gear makes the majority of the trip alot easier than those outfitted with heavy, metallic armor. He assumed he'd eventually have to invest in some, but for now he was content with the leather he wore. He spent most of his time to himself, not bothering to speak for the moment. Caius felt the spark of leadership within him, but chose not to unleash that fire at the moment.
Marvelling at the will of the slaves they'd brought with them, he began to wonder just how much use he could get out of them. Not in the binds of their slavery, but in the joy of their freedom. He smirked, Haleena probably wouldn't have liked the thought of them remaining slaves anyways. For now, he'd keep his inner rebellion to himself, but he would be ready when the moment struck him.
Feeling the need for Saraenae's blessing tugging at him, he shook it off. He'd need to endure the desert sands and learn to enjoy the kiss of the searing winds. He had a long road ahead of him, and he could benefit from the toughening.
Oren studies the goblin with a puzzled expression.
"My apologies, Isz. Your words are...unfamiliar...to me and I'm not sure I understand. Regardless, I thank you for your good wishes. I am sure that Sarenrae will watch over me so long as she has use of me."
He pauses to chew at a piece of jerky. "Tell me, if you would. How is it that you have come to be a member of this caravan?"
“Some of us, like you, are called travel in order to serve a faith.
Some, like her” he gestured towards the slave girl “are are called to travel to follow orders.
Some are called to travel in order to escape
Some are called to travel to get home
and some” he referenced his well-worn boots “are simply called to travel.
Of course, calling or not, it's madness to cross the desert alone. When it was time to move I simply joined up with the first caravan I saw.
And yourself?”
Kesh looks for food but doesn't find any. He does have his personal supply of rations. He eats one. He then wanders around. He eventually approaches Cahal. If raspy common he asks "Are you a slave?"
Ripnok will attempt to help look for food as well...even though he has no idea what he is doing.
Caius observes silently, preferring to listen and learn than to speak and interrupt. He will consume rations and water from his skin instead of choosing to hunt. Survival isn't his thing.
He gestures to himself. I am Kesh. the raspy voice said. Despite the eerie glowing green eyes and dark appearance. The little creature's voice sounded surprisingly empathetic. Who are the slavemasters? He asked. A hint of determination seeped into Kesh's voice.
After helping Cahal with the camels, Marossa allowed herself to sit down next to the man in the shade. Her eyes remain closed for awhile as she tries to rest but Cahal's question made her re-open her eyes and answer in a soft stutting voice, "My... My... Um, my name is Marossa, I am a s.. slave as well, and hope to earn my freedom by serving the Pactmasters faithfully. I do not have food of my own, only a few days worth of... of water... as is allowed."
Her voice falls silent for a bit of time as she picks up her waterskin to take a quick sip. Marossa's eyes are slightly sunken into get face as if she had not been sleeping well. By the time she is done with her sip of water the curious creature known as Kesh had joined them and Cahal was speaking with Kesh she decided to stay silent for the moment.
A small goblin with an extremely large grin plastered across his face, which makes him look a bit disturbing, wanders up to your small group. Hello, beautiful day isn't it? I'm Ripnok. What are your names? He is wearing what looks like the tattered remnants of the top half of a wizards robes, tied with twine at strategic points to keep it in place. He verily clinks and clanks with various vials and liquids around his person and will occasionally stop and pour and ingredient here a splash of this there at seemingly random times.
Kesh notices Marossa isn't eating and he pulled out one of his rations and offered it to her.
"It is a terrible thing. Slavery" He said "I want to help if it is possible"He turns as the goblin approaches. "Kesh" Kesh had become more comfortable to the more forlorn looking members of the party such as the slaves and the goblins.
"I slave once, a few years ago. I freed by a raid. I don't like it when people abuse others cause I been abused all my life by others." He looks around as if to find someone."No slave masters around? Cleric seems to nice, and so does caravan master." Looks back at Cahal and Marossa. "If there are no masters, why you still slaves?"
Oren takes a sip of water from a skin.
"I am hoping to re-establish the temple to Sarenrae in Kelmarane. It's not known, of course, if there is anything at all to re-establish but I would like to do what I can."
He eyes the goblin with interest. "So you are just traveling for the sake of travel? How unusual. I don't know that many others here would be able to claim the same."
Not one to interrupt, he'd speak up at the man's claim.
"I travel for the sake of traveling. It may also be that in this direction I can find someone who has gone missing. But the truth, the heart of the matter, is that the rest of the children from my home have gone and set out to explore the world, but this is my first real step into her embrace."
He'll stand and take a drink of his water as he approaches the rest of the group.
"My name is Caius Ild, and many call me a Forgotten Son. The origin of that name is not a tale for now though, I am afraid. It's interesting to see just how many slaves have decided to make the trip out here though. Do you really think you'll earn your freedom in this manner?"
He isn't trying to crash any dreams, only make sure they understand the dangers of their logic.
"I slave once, a few years ago. I freed by a raid. I don't like it when people abuse others cause I been abused all my life by others." He looks around as if to find someone."No slave masters around? Cleric seems to nice, and so does caravan master." Looks back at Cahal and Marossa. "If there are no masters, why you still slaves?"
Oh a great many things but right now I just wish to get to know those I travel with. Up until now I haven't been allowed out of my master's laboratory much and I am greatly enjoying being out here with all of you. It is certainly exciting to be getting underway isn't it? I mean I love this desert air and the clear blue sky. Lots of interesting people to talk to also and I am traveling to earn my freedom so that I can continue my craft and become the greatest alchemist the world has ever seen and the fact that I am a goblin won't matter because I am so famous and... He will just keep rambling on unless someone stops him.
"Home is where the hear is, and if my heart is never at rest, I'm forever at home. Occasionally I stand still a little longer than I'd like."
The collar marks on his neck are evident for a moment as he reaches for a passing beetle. He crunches on it as he continues
"But I usually find my way to the wandering path again."
Oren's eyes catch the collar marks on the goblin's neck and nods with understanding.
"So tell me, Isz. What do you plan when we reach our destination? What role will you play in our merry little group?"
Cahal's eyes widen terribly as he listens to the two goblins. Then he bursts out: "Ah! Ah! Ah! You two are the weirdest goblins I've ever met. Well, I never had long conversations so to speak... Did you get morphed in goblins for bad behaviour by the Packmasters? Let me guess... Gnomes, right?! Ah! Ah! Ah! Anyway, a slave is a slave is a companion. As long as you don't try to eat me, we can work something out! You mentioned Alchemy. Are you also a student of the 'Great Art'?"
Ripnok looks puzzled for a second. I don't think I was a gnome before although I suppose it is possible if someone erased my memory after the transformation. They would have to have used a powerful transformative spell or potion to get that to work permanently. I can see the appeal with doing so. I wonder if... He rambles on for a moment until he sees everyone staring at him. To answer your question my last master was the great Ignatio Soravel. He did not exactly teach me but he tended to talk out loud when he worked so I picked up the basics. I think he would have been horrified if he had known all I had been able to learn from him. Are you a student of Alchemy as well? I have been working on the most wondrous... He starts rambling again about various metals and powders and whether his bombs are better made with sulfur or phosphorous as their base and on and on until someone interrupts him again. He never takes offense when someone interrupts him by the way, he seems to take it as a given that people will.
"Sulfur tastes funny. Smells like bad eggs too. I curious, Ripnok could you make potions for me? I pay you."
"Sulfur tastes funny. Smells like bad eggs too. I curious, Ripnok could you make potions for me? I pay you."
Ripnok is ecstatic! My first real customer! I would be privileged to make potions for you. You only need tell me what you wish me to make and I will do my best to make it for you. In his excitement, Ripnok trips getting up and several of his vials go flying. One hits a rock and starts sputtering but Ripnok is able to get it under control before any explosions. His ears quiver in embarrassment as he sits back down to ask what sort of potions Kesh would like.
"I weak. I need to be bigger. I want Potions of Enlarge person." Seeing Ripnoks twitchy ear, Kesh reaches out and plays with it for a moment and then gently pulls his hand back and waits for a response.
Cahal's eyes widen terribly as he listens to the two goblins. Then he bursts out: "Ah! Ah! Ah! You two are the weirdest goblins I've ever met. Well, I never had long conversations so to speak... Did you get morphed in goblins for bad behaviour by the Packmasters? Let me guess... Gnomes, right?! Ah! Ah! Ah! Anyway, a slave is a slave is a companion. As long as you don't try to eat me, we can work something out! ...
Isz turns his head towards Cahal and replies with a grin.
"Why yes, Gnomes...in fact I think I remember seeing you there, weren't you the big smelly ape?"
than continues with the conversation he was having
"So tell me, Isz. What do you plan when we reach our destination? What role will you play in our merry little group?"
"Plan? There is no plan. I am a decent sneak and a thief, but closer to 'Oliver Twist' meets 'Gremlins' than 'Ocean's Elevan', y'know? Right now it benefits me to work with the group. So, that's where I am today. Tomorrow? Everyone knows that there's no such thing as tomorrow."
Marossa remains silent as she listens to all the conversations all around her. Giving up for a moment at trying to follow the quick talking Goblins, she pulls out an ink pen and piece of parchment from her backpack and begins to write on the page with the quiet scratching of her quill on the parchment easing her moment for a few moments. Marossa begins to hum softly as her thoughts turn towards her current situation and she begins to write a few words about it.
Looking up after a time she listens to Isz as he explains a few of his abilities and gives the goblin a quizzical look. "I did not realize the Packmaster's would hire such... help for this expedition, I thought this caravan was to reclaim an old city?"
So many of Isz's words were strange that Oren could no longer follow the train of discussion. When the tall human spoke to him, he shook his head slightly and tried to focus on the question that was asked of him.
"Hmmm? Oh yes. I serve no mortal master, although I am bound to follow the dictates of my superiors in the church, of course. It's been said that Kelmarane held a temple to Sarenrae. If that is true, it is my hope to help re-establish the faith there. I'm also quite curious about what had actually happened to the village all those years ago, a goal that I'm sure is shared by the leader of this excursion."
"What of you? Cahal, is it?"
Kesh does something strange. he reaches into the folds of his robe and pulls out a flute. He begins to play a soft soothing melody.
Preform wind Check: