Jibrīl Al-Las’ah
Don’t want to die? I have bad news for you, it will happen to us all. We simply have a chance to influence when.
We are all aware, I think, that this is a dangerous profession, no? Take risks, make money? Did you think this was the Gardeners Guild?
Did you have better plans for this evening?
Blue Hawk
Hawk raises an eyebrow at the mini-tirade from the Wazifi man. It seems a bit hostile, but Hawk supposes that he can understand not wanting cowards in one’s warband. He decides to answer.
“As Shaman, my path is on border of spirit world and living world. I do not fear to be taken into spirit world, if my feet stay on path that spirits have placed me on.”
Hawk folds his arms, still looking at AI Las’ah. “Tonight we go to West part of city; this is your people, yes? What must we know before tonight?”
Morton
[The creatures surrounding Morton had slowed down significantly since Morton had entered and it had become clear what was going on with his ‘menagerie’. There were a fixed number of creatures and they all would change constantly, simultaneously, and rear-to-front. Right now they were turning feline after being fanged serpents and they currently were in the obviously-awkward-in-retrospect ‘snake with a big fuzzy back legs and a tail’ phase and a few of the smaller ones was chasing a slightly larger one.]
“A mysterious ancient elf needs needs a bodyguard, picked us”, [he gestures around the table], “And we get to meet just after dark. What could possibly go awry?”
He grinned at Jibrīl. “I still plan on not dying for that money though, and I’ve been practicing my not-dying skills my whole life”
To the group “Well, I’m game to give the old guy a shot”
Jibrīl Al-Las’ah
The difference between al-Haz and al-Wazif would be a good start.
You would all be well advised to avoid ostentatious displays of magic. Morton, in particular, is likely to cause a substantial stir if he isn’t careful. The Hazi are a…sheltered people. Not what you’d call cosmopolitan. You wouldn’t want to find yourself being accused of being in league with demons. And if you do, I don’t want to be with you when it happens.
Keeping a low profile is to be advised.
Nicolas de Courcy
“Our particular set of skills would also be a good starting point, both for negotitions and coordinating our efforts if we take the job.”
“On my part, my speciality is the sword but I’m no slouch with the bow if it comes to it”
“Since This evenings work will be in the streets, bows are out. Someone who can consistently put the pointy end of a dagger into a target at a distance would be handy to make up for that. Or magic…” de Courcy glances at Morton.
"… and I imagine our heavily armoured friend," he says nodding towards Ranar, “would be suited to close protection, or pinning an opponent in place.”
Ranar Bolijyr
Patting his hammer, Ranar nodded. “Indeed. And, I should have no trouble ahem keeping a low profile.”
He looked up and around the room at the others, sizing them up. “I could certainly use some gold marks and wouldn’t mind seeing what these Hazi are like. However, I think De … De Courcy has a good point. We should find out what sort of trouble our employer is expecting - what we should be prepared for.”
Morton
“No reason for concern, friend. I’m quite mutable…and I find the ability to transition back and forth to be very useful, and I’d be a disappointment to my poor mother if I didn’t give my prospective employers a show. It must be constraining to only to be able to be one person”
With that his ‘pets’ position themselves and merge together, forming an outfit of animal pelts in a rough variant of Blue Hawk’s wardrobe with the addition of several inches in height from a large, garish furry hat.
“Now where did that strange little man go?” he adds with a wink.
[To Ranar]
"That is a very good question. I was hoping we’d get some answers to that this evening.
Blue Hawk
Hawk cannot read the Wazifi man’s expression well enough to tell whether the comment on nationality was a joke or whether he’s given actual offense, so Hawk takes his first opportunity to apologize, allowing his face to relax from his customary frown to show genuine regret.
“I beg pardon; I am new to this area, and did not know difference between al-Haz and al-Wazif. I did not mean offense. I will try harder to not confuse them.”
That taken care of, the tribesman turns to the patchwork Aralaise-man, and straightens his shoulders. “My skill with weapons is not as great, but I can use spear and shield in fight. But if magic is not welcome, I will not be much useful in fight. My power comes from spirits, and I do not know if Hazi think of spirits as demons.”
Hawk looks around at the assembled company, his face now returning to a frown, but now a worried one instead of a hostile one. “But if ‘low-profile’ is goal, I do not see how group of tribes-man, woods-man, mine-man, Wazifi-man, and Aralaise-man escorting woods-Lord through Hazi city will not pull eyes. Even if white-sleeves are common, groups will be more same than we are.”
His piece spoken, the shaman sits back and tries to figure out the woods-man who is now imitating Hawk’s own clothing. The man seems to be able to put on a good front of sanity when he tries, which raises the question: is the crazy behaviour the front? It’s one thing to pretend to be less intelligent than you are; it has served Hawk in the past to make people think that they could manipulate Hawk. But pretending to be crazy would have the opposite effect: a person whose actions you can’t predict cannot be controlled, by definition.
As for the others, the Aralaise-man seems smarter than Hawk first gave him credit for, the mine-man looks to be a formidable warrior, but Hawk can make no real determination beyond that yet, and the Wazifi man seems to be deliberately carrying an air of enigma: that one would have to be watched closely.
Hawk took another sip of his ale, while not taking his eye off of any of the others.
Jibrīl Al-Las’ah
If our putative employer wanted his escort for tonight to be unobtrusive, he could have hired Hazi guards. I suspect our being a noticeable group is intentional.
I merely advise that to the Hazi anything except minor utility and healing magic is considered a capital crime - so if you intend something otherwise, make sure you don’t get caught.
The hour is nearly upon us, we should prepare to go.
Ranar Bolijyr
Ranar speaks, little more than a mumble, “Maybe we are intended to be an ostentatious display. Or to attract attention away from something else. Either seems achievable with this group. But I wonder what else is going on tonight in our destination.” He shrugs and waits for someone else to speak.
@nimelennar @Daaksyde @Mitchell @William_Holz @daneel
GM POST THREE
As the dark of the evening closes in, one of the stablehands begins harnessing a pair of horses to a small covered coach. The barman indicates that the coach is for Lord Aronn.
“Are you gents okay to handle the coach yourselves, or do I need to send one of the boys with you? You’re okay on your own? Good; just hand off the coach to the stableboy when you return.”
At the appointed time, Aronn appears. If anything, he looks worse than before; he leans heavily on a thin black staff as he drags himself towards the coach. He is black haired, tall and slender; you see that he wears a loose suit of black silk underneath his cloak. There are dark circles under his eyes, and his breath rasps in his throat. He pauses as he reaches the coach.
“Good evening… gentlemen. As your…employment…begins tonight…so do…your wages.” With that, he hands each of you a gold mark; the coins are fresh and clean Megalan currency. The gold is reassuringly heavy in your hands.
Ranar takes the driver’s seat on the coach, while the rest of you fall in to walk beside, clearing the foot traffic from the path of the coach. Aronn directs you to head directly towards the Governor’s Bridge, cutting through downtown. You travel west along the waterfront for a short distance, before turning south onto Bridge Street. This takes you past the Hall of Justice to Trinity Square, outside the cathedral and monastery. The cathedral is a magnificent sight; over a hundred feet tall, it is supposedly outmatched only by St Peter’s in Megalos.
The city is crowded and lively, although the manicured trees and paving of Trinity Square is a place of relative peace. Throughout your journey, Aronn remains quiet and hidden within the coach, curtains drawn.
As soon as you turn west down Lorian Street towards the Bridge, the clamor of a downtown evening resumes. Humans of many nationalities press in from all sides, along with a smattering of goblins, dwarves and halflings. Passing the guild halls of the physicians and heralds, you come to the Governor’s Bridge, just south of the East Tredroy docks.
The bridge is a large covered structure, more building than roadway. About twenty Cardien guardsmen control the eastern entrance to the structure, closely inspecting eastbound traffic but waving the westbound traffic through with no more than cursory surveillance.
Inside the structure, a row of magical lights down the centre of the roof provide illumination for a vivid scene of traffic both idle and purposeful. A row of shops selling overpriced snacks and knick-knacks lines each side; some people dawdle amongst these shops, while others purposefully march to the other end of the long bridge.
At the western end, around forty stern faced Hazi guardsmen manage a moderate queue of travelers waiting to enter al-Haz. You park the coach at the end of the queue, and settle down to wait. It looks like it should be no more than a few minutes.
@nimelennar @Daaksyde @Mitchell @William_Holz @daneel
GM POST FOUR
As you come to the front of the queue, half a dozen guardsmen surround your group. They are all armed with Tulwars and armoured in mail, but their attitude, while stern, is not hostile.
Jibrīl they greet with a nod; Ranar’s militaristic appearance elicits a resigned sigh and a mutter in Arabic about dwarves; Hawk gets a quick once-over, but is then seemingly dismissed; Nicolas’ rapier earns a long look, but it is Morton that draws the most attention.
However, this attention is more cautious than aggressive; none of the guards seem to want to get too close to the half-elf. Even on his best behavior, Morton still manages to exude an air of uncanniness.
“I’ll need to see your guild badges if you want to keep those weapons. There are armbands here for the infidels; hand them back in when you return across the bridge. Are you carrying any drugs or implements of sorcery? Who is in the coach, and what is your business in al-Haz?”
[PLAYER CUE: well? Speak up…]
Jibrīl Al-Las’as
(In Arabic)
As-Salaam-Alaikum, friend.
Certainly, we have guild badges. As you can see, we are all above board. Please, take your time to satisfy yourself that all is in order. Sorcery? Of course not - that is haraam. Even my kafir colleagues respect this. They thank you for the armband.
As to our business? Why, our employer has a brief business matter to conclude in Al-Haz. He does not travel to West Tredroy often, and needs help getting around, so he asks for our help. A brief visit, then we shall be on our way. A shame I won’t have the chance to show my colleagues the sights this time.
@nimelennar @Daaksyde @Mitchell @William_Holz @daneel
GM POST FIVE
“I asked you, who is in the coach?”
With this, the guard captain steps quickly to the coach, and pulls the door open.
Aronn looks up at the guardsman. You see his fingers curl briefly, and when he speaks his voice is much more clear and forceful than you’ve come to expect.
“You do not need to detain us further.”
“I apologise, my lord; I’ll not detain you any longer”, the guard replies. His voice seems strangely flat.
“We should be on our way now”, adds Aronn.
“Please continue on your way, my lord. Welcome to al-Haz; my most humble apologies for the intrusion.”
With that, the guard captain steps back, and ushers his men to clear the way. Taking up the reins once more, Ranar drives the coach off the western side of the bridge and into al-Haz.
Nicolas de Courcy, The Valley Inn 2 hours ago
“I haven’t a clue. Let’s see if what we can find out, shall we?” de Courcy said, punctuating it with a slap on the table as he rose from his seat.
Moving back into the main room, de Courcy approached the barman, with a friendly smile.
“I’m sorry friend, I didn’t catch your name earlier. I take it you’re acting as Lord Arron’s agent in this matter?”
Agent or not, de Courcy hoped to get some useful information from the barman. If he was acting for the strange elven lord perhaps de Courcy could find out what he needed protection from. If not, in de Courcy’s experience barmen tend to know what’s going on, even if it’s only rumour - it’d be handy to answer Ranar’s question in some form.
Either way best to start with a friendly approach, de Courcy thought, mother always said you catch more flies with honey.
Lorien St Bridge
Surprised by the guard captain’s impatience and aggressive approach, de Courcy instinctively steps back to maintain distance his hand falling to the hilt of his rapier.
With concious-effort he catches himself before his hand had more than brushed the hilt, changing the movement into a slight deferential bow.
After Aronn’s intervention, de Courcy mutters under his breath in Aralaise “Neat trick”, and follows the coach across the bridge.
GM FLASHBACK
[quote=“Mitchell, post:36, topic:83574, full:true”]
Nicolas de Courcy, The Valley Inn 2 hours ago
“I’m sorry friend, I didn’t catch your name earlier. I take it you’re acting as Lord Arron’s agent in this matter?”[/quote]
“Ah’m just a barman, sir. The Lord Aronn has been staying with us a short while, and has seen fit from time to time to ask me to arrange some small errands for him. He’s a fine gent, and a great scholar, too. Always has his head in a dusty old book, that one; keeps to himself, mostly, which is hardly surprising given his condition. ‘Tis a great pity about his health; I’ve never seen an elf in such a poor way. I always thought that their kind were immune to such sorrows.”
@nimelennar @Daaksyde @Mitchell @William_Holz @daneel
GM POST SIX
Aronn directs the coach westwards, continuing along Lorian Street. On the waterfront to your right lies the elegant house and grounds of the mayor’s residence; beyond that, the downtown proper begins.
The architecture of West Tredroy is austere and restrained relative to the Cardien section of the city; while the streets remain busy, the atmosphere is more industrious and less carnival. Cafés dot the streets, filled with men snacking on pastries and drinking intensely strong coffee from thimble-sized cups.
Women are largely absent from the street scene; those few that do appear are veiled and escorted by male companions. The crowd is overwhelmingly Arabic; the handful of Christian faces you see are mostly those of slaves, kept under close supervision this near to the refuge of East Tredroy. An occasional hulking, hooded figure proves on closer inspection to be one of the fearsome Reptile Men, passing quietly through the crowd without stir.
After a few cross streets, you pass the Grand Mosque of Tredroy on your left. It is another huge building, capable of holding thousands. Outside, a squadron of the Pasha’s guards stand glaring at the crowd.
Where Lorian Street meets with Al-Imaan Street, the road widens into the expanse of Safiya Square. This is the social heart of West Tredroy, and it is filled with people tonight. Restaurants and cafés ring the square, while the red sandstone bulk of the Palace of the Golden Sunset looms to the northwest. It is said that the stone to build the palace was hauled here all the way from the Fence of God.
Aronn directs you to halt by the north edge of the square, outside one of the countless small coffee and pastry shops. He painfully eases himself from the carriage, leaning heavily upon his staff. His voice has returned to its normal halting rasp.
“I have…business to attend to…in private. Wait here for…me…until I return. It should not be…more than…an hour or so.”
With that, he turns and begins to slowly hobble across the square towards the palace.
[PLAYER CUE: you’ve got an hour to kill. Just gonna sit around and guzzle coffee, or is there anything else you’d like to get up to? Remember that you’ve got a carriage to mind.]
Nicolas de Courcy, 2 hours ago
"So did I, but perhaps they’re merely more private about such matters than most.
“I’m walking into this job a little short of detail. You wouldn’t happen to have picked up what Lord Arron needs body guarding from while helping him out?”
GM IN FLASHBACK
“Well, I wouldn’t like to gossip about a customer, but seeing as how you’re one of Lord Aronn’s employees now…I heard that you’ll be heading downriver shortly?”
The barman pauses and looks around, seemingly checking for eavesdroppers, before continuing in a hushed voice.
“I believe he’s developed an interest in Wazifi military history for some reason. I think that there may be some old battlefield or base that he wants to look at. It’ll be a dusty trip, for sure; there’s been peace on that border for two hundred years. I doubt that there’s anything left to see.”
“God only knows why an elf would be interested in such a thing, but they always are a mysterious lot, aren’t they? Still, can’t complain; he can be as mysterious as he likes so long as he keeps the tip jar full, eh?”
Blue Hawk
Hawk notes the guard’s reaction to seeing Lord Arron. Very interesting. This is a man of great power then. One who would be able to command great magics and probably has an army of people to command. So why use mercenaries?
He keeps an eye and ear out for those who break into whispers at Lord Arron’s passing, then the northerner finds a merchant that speaks Anglish and loudly orders food and drink haltingly. The merchants chuckle and cheerfully insult him in Arabic, which he laughs at as if he has no understanding of the words they are saying and pays the price they ask as if he has no idea that they are horribly overcharging him.
He sits near the gossipers and sips the coffee (ugh, too bitter), and nibbles on the pastry (ugh, too sweet), and tries to overhear what the gossip is on Lord Arron.
While part of his brain is listening, and part trying to fit the information about Lord Arron together, a third part of his brain idly weighs the possibility of getting caught if he decides to infest the coffee shop with rats for the disrespect they have presented a shaman and, by extension, the spirits.
