[Game Thread] Chapter 1: Blood on the Sand

[chaosaccountant]

"Truth is a flay-wind, scouring minds from those who seek it out. But what would I leave behind? Does closing your eyes to the storm save your flesh from the grit or you lungs from the dust?
"I see the waste, for the waste is everything, I and you, and river-clay, and..." Wind looked up to see the dark-haired newcomer walk in, the dust of the desert still clining to her second-hide. "...and the clawed hunting cat that joins us now."
His dark eyes followed her ritual, looking at her hands rather than her face or mouth, even when she bowed and spoke. Feeling the slight crowding in the room, he moved to the corner opposite the door and settled into a motionless squatting position, eyes fixed ahead on the door.

[orangehatter]

Cheveyo had never been one to belittle woman warriors, but he always wondered if it was fit for females to become fighters. He always struck the situation as odd, feeling that a woman's femininity was many times more precious than her ability to wield a blade. Many of these female warriors from the desert nomads were aggressive and could fill most any man with undeniable fear. Now, Cheveyo was wondering if this woman was a reincarnation of this idea. Perhaps, in another light or time, the woman would have been pleasingly pulchritude. For now, her feature was that of a cobra at rest.

Now their are two representatives of the human tribes. Born to a tribal warrior himself, Cheveyo could easily tell she was more than likely daughter to a nomadic group. The dark skin, the mannerism, the same dark braid that nearly matched his own. He would have been more welcoming had she been a member of the same sex. He watched her ritual respectfully and curiously, the water flowing quickly into her mouth. A small case of nervousness put pressure against his throat, but he fought it off. Cheveyo was, and never will be, a smooth talker.

"Hey," he managed in response to her greeting, again with a smile. He paused shortly, searching for words that would stimulate small talk. "Seems I'm not the only human looking to help today." A half-sincere/half-shaky laugh preceded his inquisitiveness. "What tribe do you come from?"

[tilbert]

Taharqua carefully listens to Wind's reply and goes through his words several times and finally smiles at the Bhuku "My dear fellow, I get the impression, we're more alike, than we now are aware of. It's just the perception that leads us to believe we're different. I'm looking forward to learn from your wisdom."

He turns his view to the female woman that enters the waiting room, curiously waiting for first words and introduction.

[Silk]

Her gaze follows the Bhuka as he crouches over to the side of the room and Emeria idly tries to think what it might mean for a Bhuka to help them fight other Bhuka. However, any thoughts on the matter was wiped clean from her mind at the asking of her clan. The slight smile is immediately wiped from her face and she brought all her intimidating baring towards the large human who asked. But just as quickly Emeria realized he meant no harm with the innocent question and schooled her features mere seconds after glaring at the man.

Embarrassed at losing her temper to such a simple and common question Emeria was very grateful for her sand roughened dark skin that hid her blush. She did that slight bow again, "I am sorry. I am called Emeria and am of the Ajani Clan." She hesitating slightly before going on, "For me their is little interest in aiding the soft skins of this oasis. I only wish to be useful in some way as I have not been to useful in my own purposes these past years."

Emeria glances around and slowly eases onto a stool as if she was not used to sitting on such. Strangely she raises her feet just out of the direct sunlight streaming in through a window to bath the bottom legs of the stool. It looks slightly uncomfortable but she is obviously ready to maintain that position for quite some time. Once seated Emeria glances around again and asks the other Human, "What Clan do you hail from? In fact, I ask that of all here as we seem destined to walk the sands together."

[Eviltedzies]

The afternoon sun shone bright in the sky as the streets bustled with activity. Each person moving to their own destination; each person having their set course. Walking amongst the crowds was an elf in the same situation as the rest of the inhabitants of Soulyra. Akwardly enough, the elf stood out fairly easily considering his attire. His movements were of a slower pace than some of the lighter traveling citizens, but his control was just as keen. To most, the elf would seem mad for wearing full plate armor under the blazing sun, but every so often as some would stare or comment on his clothing choice, the elf would just smile.

Brushing a few strands of his long blond hair, the elf made his way further into the great city of Karn. The sun shone down upon his tanned skin as brown eyes scanned the crowds for the best way to proceed. Every so often after an accidental bump, the elf would reply in his soothing tongue, "Excuse me." From a distance the elf might merely be mistaken as a high elf, but a closer look revealed a character of a more wild and traveled nature. This was not one of the high elves, but one of the painted elves of the wild deserts.

If his attire made him seem more akin to a city guard or mercenary, the elf seemed unconcerned. To a watcher the elf appeared to be not bothered at all by the supposed heat his armor and clothing should have been bestowing upon him. As the elf reached his destined place he looked up from the base of the steps at the three great statues. With a gentle move, the elf slid his stubborn hair behind his ears, letting it hang back behind him and giving him an unobstructed view.

In a steady pace, the elf rose step by step up the steps. Reaching the top, the elf let out a small smile as a single bead of sweat trickled down his face. "Barely broken a sweat." Turning his attention back to the statues, the elf seemed proud of the sculptures craftsmenship. "Whoever crafted you was surely gifted by the gods themselfs." Silently the elf gave a nod of respect to each of the gods statues. As he made his way towards the inside, the elf paused by the statue of Ka-Men. "Good afternoon my lady. My your wisdom and benevolence watch over all those who travel your sands."

Having said his piece, the elf continued inside the structure. If the craftsmenship of the statues impressed him, the interior of the structure gave him moment to pause. "Hmmm.... seems a little overdone, but overall not bad for one of the central cities of the world." With a casual stride the elf made his way to the front desk and gave a pleasent smile as one of the men greeted him. "Good day to you gentlemen. I am here to attend a meeting with a Mr. Lyle I believe it was." Once the man had finished speaking the elf gave a curt bow. "May your throats never go dry and your feet find their way in the sands. Good day sirs."

Moving upstairs the elf found himself marveling at the hustle and bustle of the busy rooms. "Just like the first day of trading a fresh load of goods. Chaos and bussiness as usual." As children ran by a smile found its way to the elfs face. "Careful children, save your running for the soft morning sands. Its much funner and a lot less dangerous." Continuing his strides, the elf made his way to the mentioned room

As he approached the open door he could hear voices already speaking in conversation. Stepping through the doorframe, the elf surveyed the scene before him. "Hmm seems I'm somewhat late. But what an interesting looking crowd. And a Bhuka to boot! I've always wanted to learn some of their tongue." The elf smiled wide and gave a bow as well as an elf in fullplate could bow without losing the fluid grace that his people were known for. "Good day to you all. My name is Kethyr and I do hope this is the meeting for those interested in putting a stop to the bandit raids. If so, then I look forward to working with you all." Kethyr's words came with a warm friendlyness and a demeanor that seemed very relaxed, even considering the topic of the meeting. As the last words rolled off his tongue, Kethyr nonchalantly takes up a leaning position against the way a few feet beside the door. Curiosity danced in his eyes as he surveyd the group before him.

[Avelestar]

A few minutes pass, as the group converses openly, it seems all of you share a kinship in being nomads, or have spent a large amount of time in the desert. None are a rich nobleman looking for kicks, or a stuttering young student from the university wanting to test his latest spells out, or perhaps pick up some extra credit. Finally, a man walks into the room, who you presume to be Lyle. He's wearing the usual attire of political officials, a loose fitting robe, plain orange with a thin diagonal red stripe to show his low ranking. The more important you are, the less orange you wear, and the more red is on your robes, conversely the lowest ranking people wear yellow robes. The Council of Three wear robes entirely of red, the top of the stack, whilst the page boys you saw earlier wear yellow, the bottom of the stack.

"Good morning to you all, I'll be your contact Lyle Raiku." begins the slightly fat man, his tone rather haughty, as if he thinks himself more important than you. "Clearly you're all here for the mercenary work. And not a moment too soon, we've just received word that two towns on the Eastern edges of Karnas have been burnt to the ground." Lyle lets this sink in for a moment, before continuing on. "These two towns are only a few miles from where we suspect one of the bandit groups are hiding, and a third town nearby has yet to be touched."

Noticing the water, he greedily pours himself a cup and downs it quickly, doing the same to a second and third. "Where was I?" he gasped, nearly out of breath from drinking so fast. "Ah yes, we want you to head to Rosemont on one of our supply trains and lay low for a couple of days, pretend to be normal villagers. If an attack comes, which both Fare and Taiok both show to be very likely, do your best to defend the town and if at all possible try and follow any raiders back to their hideout." He talks fast, and pulls out a small map as he does so, motioning for it to be passed around the room. You guess that on a slow moving supply caravan it would take at least two days to reach this town, possibly more if the weather is bad. Hopefully this will not be too late for Rosemont, and you won't turn up to another slaughtered and burnt town.

"We are concerned however, as all the raids in the past have been to take supplies only...never to take prisoners or burn down entire villages. If you wish to take on this job, the supply caravan is leaving his afternoon, meant to bring water and grain to outlying towns, and bring back meat and ore. Payment is to be made to each of you of five hundred gold pieces on return of proof of fending off a bandit attack, and another one thousand pieces if you can track down, and destroy their hideout." From somewhere in a pouch on his back, Lyle pulls out one of those fancy magic clay tablets and places it on the table, the index finger of his right hand poised over it. "Also, if there is no attack in a week, you will be paid a base rate of two hundred gold pieces for your time. Names, and town of origin please?"

[Eviltedzies]

Kethyr listens to Lyle's words with not much more than a passing interest. His mind was already contemplating the job at hand. " So bandits are becoming bolder. Dam bastards... its one thing to steal to survive, but burning two entire villages is going too far." Kethyr's eyes stair off into open air as he recalls memories from times long ago. "Will they use sand-ships or desert mounts for quick ambushes? Or maybe they will try to sneak up under the cover of darkness.... Either way they will find their next target to be not so easy."

As Lyle mentioned something about names and houses, Kethrs mind brought itself back into the present. With an optimistic tone in his smooth voice "My name's is Kethyr. I belong to no house, but my tribe is known as the Baeyqui'nddare." As Kethyr speaks his tribes name he slows his speaking in the hopes that the man will correctly spell it. "I wonder if this guy will spell it right? Last two people I mentioned it to couldn't spell it to save their lives."

[tilbert]

There's nothing wrong in earning money, while doing the right thing Thararqua thinks. Then he remembers one the last evenings he spent with Sahitep, sitting and chatting in the small living room of the subterranean cavern 'I'll I taught you during the past years, will you need in future. The time will come, when you have step up and fight back the evil, hiding in the waste and striking the devout and honest people' Could it be that his time was come?

He head turns to the right - to where nobody is standing. "What do you think, Theophanu?" he whispers. A second later he nods confidently and steps forward to Lyle. "Taharqua Nezzahir, born in Quimbzar, but I teach at the university nowadays. Where did you say, does the caravan leave?"

[chaosaccountant]

Wind watched the dominace display and maneuverings of the angry young hunter with the distant intrest of an outside observer, the delicate distance she kept around herself, the cultivated air of ferocity. A solitary lion, long cut off from her pride.
At the arrival of the metal-clad beast, he crouched lower, a ready position. This is a being of polished steel and polished words. He is a defier of the waste, and will one day swallow him.
If the elf's arrival had set him on edge, the mandarin confused him. Wrapped in the colors of bees, as they all seemed to be in this hive, he droned and danced his incomprehensible dance, speaking of the shiny stones he possessed to coerce aid. He was handed a piece of paper, marked with symbols that were meant to show the land, but showed only that the person who made the paper had not really seen it. He handed it on without a second glance.
"I am the wind, I blow from the waste. We shall walk the waste together."

[orangehatter]

The only outward reaction Cheveyo had to the armed woman's abrupt change in mannerism was the sharp raising of his eyebrows. Guess I touched on a sensitive subject. Great first impression, Cheveyo. His eyebrows rested in motion with the woman's bow, who seemed to be sorry for her emotional change. "I am sorry. I am called Emeria and am of the Ajani Clan. For me their is little interest in aiding the soft skins of this oasis. I only wish to be useful in some way as I have not been to useful in my own purposes these past years."

Cheveyo brightened his smile and, as he was prone to do, nodded his head. "No need for apologies." Sorry I said that. "And rest assured, once this is all over with, I'll be happy to get back to my work." Maybe we could grab a couple of drinks? You know, being that you're a woman and I...err...never meet any women... It was fortunate for the Maox that his tongue as much slower than his thought process.

"What Clan do you hail from? In fact, I ask that of all here as we seem destined to walk the sands together."

"I am of the Maox...but...I've been disconnected from them for some time now." He punctuated with a nervous, deep laugh as he rubbed timidly at the back of his neck. His mind raced as he tried to think of a way to explain his ties quickly, summarily, and without embarrassing himself. Fortunately, the presence of the armor-clad elf took the attention off from him.

Kethyr? Cheveyo rolled the name along the tip of his tongue as he thought of how he would pronounce his name later on. He had an idea that anyone wearing armor in this weather had to be involved somewhat in alchemical or magical dealings. In addition, the (knight?) warrior didn't settle well with him. Cheveyo was more at peace with the Bhuka's aesthetic taste and Emeria's hostile presence than the (cleric?) elf's formalities. Still, he offered a short wave as he racked his brain in coming up with a more proper greeting.

It seemed though that Fate favored his slow sociability. Yet Irony felt to be in a joking mood. Lyle's entrance and "welcome" was held aloft with a pompous air, and that seemed to grate the large young man to his core. Th eman drank the water like ale, reiterating to Cheveyo that this was not someone he felt the need to become excessively friendly with. He focused his attention on the information presented, the smile wiped clean from his mouth, and took mental notes to the funding and process of their expeditious mission. He hadn't known that two towns had already been burnt to the ground, and this unsettled his previous thoughts of this being a clean sweep-up.

Cheveyo gets off his stool just before Lyle asks for their information in order to retrieve the map from the disinterested Wind. As he turns it around in his hand to get a better perspective, he answers Lyle with all the excitement of a painted wall. "Cheveyo Dezba; from Garti, but I live here now." He doesn't even bother to look up from his perusal of his map while he moves again to hand it to Emeria.

I still have enough time to grab my things before leaving. That's good.

[Silk]

Finding Maox's halting speech more honest then many glib people she has meat, Emeria relaxes some and unclenched her jaw. At hearing about his disconnection with his clan she nods in sympathy. 'Or am I reading to much into this? It sounds as if he left his Clan or was forced to leave. Still. The loss of a Clan is hard, however it may have happened.' At seeing how he was struggling to continue with the subject Emeria started to say something of a different topic only to have one walk in. At first glance Emeria thought the fool Elf was sun-touched to be wearing all that uncovered metal. But his eye's were not glazed and only a faint dampness was upon his brow so he obviously was not sun-touched. In her travels Emeria had heard rumors of those able to travel in such stifling cloths and armor unaffected by the sun. She had thought them to be old wives tails but here is someone who proved the rumors true by only standing there. She found the anomaly intriguing and when Kethyr introduced himself in the semi-formal speech similar to the way her elders had spoken, Emeria found herself liking the Elf.

However, the next person to enter the room set her teeth on edge and she could only think of one word to describe him...soft. To be soft in the desert is to die, as the desert is very unforgiving. Emeria listened as the others spoke and put names to faces as they were given with Clans or places of birth. When Maox handed her the cloth map she took note of the roads from the city the caravan would have to use and handed it on. She deliberetly held off giving her name until she was last before slowly rising and walked towards Lyle Raiku simply stating her name. "Emeria." Walking past Lyle she paused at the door leaving enough time between the two words so even one like him would know they were not her first and last name. "Ajani" Emeria started walking again before pausing suddenly only half in sight. She looked back into the room at her companions, "I will meet you on the road outside the city." With that she left and if Lyle did not like her walking out on him, he would just have to catch up with her quick stride.

[Avelestar]

Lyle gets a bit flustered at all this lack of real hometowns, or even names in one case and puffs out his reddening cheeks in irritation. Scowling at the cryptically talking bhuka especially, he puts down what little information is given and explains a few more details. "Western gate, shortly after High Sun. Tell the caravan master that Lyle sent you, and he'll sort everything out. Those of you with mounts are encouraged to bring them if possible." He looks at the armoured elf Kethyr especially, expecting him to have a camel of some sort...little did he know what the man's true companion was. After draining the jug of the last few drops of water, Lyle leaves the room without a word and everyone files out soon after.

High Sun is roughly two hours long, the time when the sun is hottest in the sky. Often this is a time of rest, work finishes for awhile and those that live close enough to it go home, to come back and work again later in the afternoon. Still being early in the morning, you've got about five hours before it's time to leave. How you spend it is up to you, but it's not long before it's time to leave, and each of you makes your way to the Western Gate.

The supply caravan isn't hard to spot, half a dozen camel-drawn wagons, with wide wheels and skis at the front are guarded by a small group of soliders. A couple of small children are watching from an alley in the guards blind spot, and the bravest two of the group dash forwards, leaping into a caravan then out again almost as fast. In their arms is a small clay jug, and on their gaunt dirty faces a look of great joy. The group of children disappears into the cool dark alleyway once more, laughing happily.

Moving to the head of the caravan you see an older man shouting orders at a racially, and gender mixed group of people. He doesn't wear the attire of the Karnas Guard, so you assume this to be the caravan master. "COME ON! We leave in ten minutes and there's still three whole pallets of water to be loaded. Get your asses moving or I'll drop you off in No Man's Land!" The workers don't really seem to work any harder, either used to their bosses tongue and whip, or already working as fast as they can.

OOC: Does the pay seem decent? I never was very good at balancing gold for the games I DM. I always give out too much and the PCs are armed to the teeth and faceroll through every challenge .

[tilbert]

"I have some arrangements to do at the university, I'll meet you at the caravan"

Taharqua quickly heads out of the House of Three. He feels much more comfortable with sand underneath his feet than with stone. After few feet on the sandy ground, thousands of grains of sand get in motion. At first they seem to jump up and down, maybe half an inch, but then they start to form a tiny cloud - about one feet in diameter. Slowly the cloud becomes more solid and gains the shape of a small feline with pointy ears. It the cat wasn't moving, it could easily be mistaken as a masterpiece of Asherati sand sculpture. Quickly it catches up with Taharqua and faintly meow"Ah, there you are, Sabeth." Tahrqua bows down to pet the cat, which obviously enjoys his master's attention and starts to purr.

Back in his chamber at the university Taharqua looks through his few belongings that lie scattered in his room. Soon he realizes, that pretty much everything will fit into his chitin backpack and his pouches. Before leaving to meet up with the caravan, he goes to see the housekeeper to inform her about his absence.

About the final minutes of High Sun Taharqua steps through the impressive wester gate of Karn. The blazing sun of the early afternoon banished any shade at this side of the city. As he realizes he's the first of the motley crew to arrive at the caravan, he walks up to the first dunes and sits down in the sand. Baseth takes place next to him. Soon the surrounding sand starts to form a parasol, large enough two or three people, casting a cooling shadow on Taharqua and Baseth. He watches the hustle and bustle, invitingly waving at any of other mercenaries.

[chaosaccountant]

Watching the stalking lioness take her leave, and the bee buzz and bluster with the aimless self-importance characteristic to humans, the wind stood to leave. He knew where and when to meet these creatures again, and saw no reason to further acknowledge the mandarin.
Keeping what distance from the plated elf that his proximity to the door allowed, he headed back into the hive, intent on escaping the close quaters as quickly as he could.
High sun found him by the side of the road outside the gates, watching the caravan from a small rise. His legs crossed under him, he waited motionlessly for the camels to begin moving.

[Eviltedzies]

Kethyr watches as the room slowly empties. His tongue held in check only by the serious air about the room. Even Kethyr couldn't help but smile as the Bhukka left the room. " Aww and I was looking forward to chatting with that one." The room now almost completely depleted, Kethry looks to the remaining human in the room. "Cheveyo Dezba...... hmm the name has a nice ring to it. I wonder if he'll be as serious as the rest of the group?"

In a joking tone, but still in the same smooth tongue. "Did all the friendly conversations come to a halt once I arrived or do you think Mr. Lyle put everyone in a more irked disposition?" With a few steps Kethyr met the man eye to eye... well eye to eye as best as a 5'6" elf could. Kethyrs face seems serious at first as he extends a hand for a handshake. For a moment he seems tense like an animal about to pounce before his visage is broken by a smile and a melodius laugh. "Hehehe... come now don't always take things so seriously. Nice to meet you Cheveyo Dezba."