Krakan grins from ear to ear, wrapping Salty’s hand in an embrace with a laugh. “First round is on you! Something to wet our whistle, methinks. Hah! And lookee here! Perhaps we made it over these dunes alive, after all! Thinking this is the way to go? What manner of beast do you think that was?”
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A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
"I'm fer sayin' howdy an' seein' what's they're about."
If the party agrees Salty moves to the tented area, keeping hands far from weapons. He also takes a closer look at the bones. "I reckon der big enough fer bein' from a dragon."
At 11:00 am Lucan cast his mage armor for the remainder of the day until 7 pm so in hope of a long rest coming later.
"I'm with you Salty, team. I can help look around and see what we can turn up."
He nods to the others and does a slow check for eyes that might be more than just casual glances at them as he casually looks around as if taking it all in.
Samir keeps his mouth quiet, but his eyes keen. Do these nomads seems safe for us to approach? Do they look healthy or do they appear weakened and/or unsafe? Any wounded or near death? Samir would want to mingle with those that need healing, gathering information as he helps those in need.
Lucan sees some people looking but nothing out of the ordinary.
When the party is near a large man wearing leather armor with metal rings sewn in (Ring Mail) and large curved blades stop the party. He stands relaxed as he had done this many times. He says "What brings travelers to clan Al - Qamarin? Business or respite from the desert?"
"Aye, a bit o' respitin' afore we're back to steppin'. Not fer turnin' down a fair trade neither if'n somethin' fer catchin' me eye," he says with a genuine smile.
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“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
The blue haired orc, accustom to following orders, begins to make a fair sized pile of weaponry at the guards feet. He thinks very little of relinquishing the javelins, crossbow, spear, and bolts. When it came time to release his beloved sword, he hesitated. His eyes lingered on the gentle curve of the scabbard and beautifully crafted handle and cross guard, masterfully shaped to resemble coral. He offers the guard a look, almost pleading. "Me blades fer bein' like a chunk o' me own body. It's not fer bein' easy tu chop off yer arm." When he finally handed the sword to the guard his hand trembled.
He headed to the tented area when the others dragged him away from the pile o' weapons, his eyes lingering like a lover watching their beloved leave for war.
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“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
He says "What brings travelers to clan Al - Qamarin? Business or respite from the desert?"
Krakan walks forward with a smile on his face, obvious exhaustion from travel evident on his face. "Both actually! Rest and respite from the desert, a refilling of our waterskis, rest for our camel, and ourselves. But also... information. Business. Dalia told us there was a resting point, a way point on the trip to her farms. Would this be that resting point? We were attacked by some sand creatures out there on the dunes, have you seen or heard of any bandits nearby?" He says this as he's removing his arms and laying them aside in the manner that the guard recommends. Krakan knows that his body is his weapon, and he is surely not giving that up. Knowing that his most powerful weapon is still with him, he gives a knowing smile to the guard, flexing his muscles from time to time as he stands over the man, with a gentle nod of the head indicating respect and thanks.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
Lucan wordlessly places his weapons with the guard. He thought about stashing 4 darts in his backpack, but thought better off it. He need to get a false bottom backpack or a padded cloak that could hide a set of 6 darts inside and a casual pat down wouldn't discover them. Things to get he thinks.
He follows the other once they are ready.
Little does the guard know that his weapons are in Lucan's mind.
"Yes, this is a rest stop though depending on the season we are not always here. Yes, the cowardly thieving bastards who make earning a living a challenge when as you have experienced the desert offers enough challenges of its own. No one can pin them down to any particular location. Though they have not dared to bother us as we are under the Hajja's protection" says the guard as he gestures to a nearby tent made of goatskin.
The floor is covered in red carpets with cushions and low tables. There is a clay pitcher on the table with some wooden cups nearby. There are some men with what sounds like passionate bargaining.
Catching Samir's eye, Salty nods his head towards the ever growing arsenal. He smiles in approval, the party was well armed, or they were. With a glance towards Krakan, the blue haired orc changed his mind; they were armed with Krakan's arms.
With a little chuckle Salty headed towards the tent. He is firstly seeking a place to fill his waterskin if possible. He then has a look at what the fuss is all about, and tries to get a general idea of the trade options.
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“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
Samir reluctantly relinquishs his weapons and shield. He glances at the others, showing his worry. "If there is an emergency, how would we get our weapons back?"
"As per the rules you can take back your weapons once you leave this rest stop." says the guard to Samir as he begins organizing the number of armaments dropped by the party.
There is water in the clay pitcher and though when looking around you see a water merchant with a wagon laden with water barrels. With a wooden sign that flaps in the breeze that just says 10gp. Now that is rather steep for water though you are in a desert. The water merchant seems to be more akin to a slug as he just sits with a slimy grin as he knows everyone must come to him at some point.
Karim’s eyes narrowed as he lifted the golden saffron threads from the pouch to the sunlight, letting their color catch the gleam. “Jamal, you call this saffron. I’ve seen dust in the alleys with more color! Twenty silver coins, not a coin more.”
Jamal’s lips curved into a faint, patient smile as he ran a finger through the delicate threads, inhaling their perfume of mountain air. “Twenty silver? Karim, my friend, you joke! These threads are plucked at dawn, dried in the sun of the high peaks. They stain fingers, tongues, and souls. Forty silvers, and not a silver less.”
Karim waved a hand, his voice rising. “Forty? I’d sooner eat sand than pay that! Your ‘high peaks’ smell of merchants’ sweat, nothing more!”
Jamal’s eyes gleamed with quiet fire. “Sweat? Ha! A merchant’s sweat is gold if he knows the craft. These threads cost my caravan three full nights of wind, sand, and wolves. You think I’d part for less?”
A child nearby giggled as a stray goat nudged its way through the tent. Karim leaned closer, voice loud and biting. “Three nights? Then tell me, did the wolves fight you or merely laugh? I’ve seen better saffron in the market of Shahr al-Layali for half this price.”
Jamal scoffed, twisting the pouch so the threads caught the sun again.“Shahr al-Layali sells lies in little tins! These threads speak of mountain air, and you, Karim, would have them whisper to you for nothing? No — forty coins, or the pouch returns to the caravan, and may it find another fool.”
Karim’s nostrils flared; the dust of the hard travel clung to his tunic as he measured his words. “Thirty coins. Take it and know your pride does not outweigh your coin.”
Jamal’s smirk widened, eyes twinkling with the amusement of a man who had bargained a hundred such times. “Thirty-five, and you may leave with both pride and saffron. After all, Karim, even a fool deserves spice in his tea.”
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Krakan grins from ear to ear, wrapping Salty’s hand in an embrace with a laugh. “First round is on you! Something to wet our whistle, methinks. Hah! And lookee here! Perhaps we made it over these dunes alive, after all! Thinking this is the way to go? What manner of beast do you think that was?”
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
Salty
Shielding his eyes with his hand, Salty squints at the flags and tries to remember what they herald.
***OoC: perception: 11 - history 10***
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
Salty vaguely recalls that the flag belongs to a nomadic clan though you are not sure which one.
Salty
"I'm fer sayin' howdy an' seein' what's they're about."
If the party agrees Salty moves to the tented area, keeping hands far from weapons. He also takes a closer look at the bones. "I reckon der big enough fer bein' from a dragon."
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
Lucan
At 11:00 am Lucan cast his mage armor for the remainder of the day until 7 pm so in hope of a long rest coming later.
"I'm with you Salty, team. I can help look around and see what we can turn up."
He nods to the others and does a slow check for eyes that might be more than just casual glances at them as he casually looks around as if taking it all in.
Lucan Perception: 11
Lucan subtly passes on anything he learns.
Signature
Levi Flint - DM - Mad Mage; Korvin - DM - Tyranny of Dragons; Player Lucan - The One Breath, Player Gildor Surion - Balder's Gate-Decent;
Samir keeps his mouth quiet, but his eyes keen. Do these nomads seems safe for us to approach? Do they look healthy or do they appear weakened and/or unsafe? Any wounded or near death? Samir would want to mingle with those that need healing, gathering information as he helps those in need.
From a distance they seem healthy.
Lucan sees some people looking but nothing out of the ordinary.
When the party is near a large man wearing leather armor with metal rings sewn in (Ring Mail) and large curved blades stop the party. He stands relaxed as he had done this many times. He says "What brings travelers to clan Al - Qamarin? Business or respite from the desert?"
Salty
***OoC: Salty tries to get a quick feel of the man and the relative safety within the camp : insight check - 15***
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
Salty gets the sense that the man is a capable guard who is confident he can handle any trouble that comes his way.
Standing at the edge of camp it seems relatively safe as the people nearby are busy with the daily tasks needed to thrive in a desert.
Salty
"Aye, a bit o' respitin' afore we're back to steppin'. Not fer turnin' down a fair trade neither if'n somethin' fer catchin' me eye," he says with a genuine smile.
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
"Please leave the camel with the others and leave your weapons with me. I promise you will get your weapons back when you leave" says the guard.
Salty
The blue haired orc, accustom to following orders, begins to make a fair sized pile of weaponry at the guards feet. He thinks very little of relinquishing the javelins, crossbow, spear, and bolts. When it came time to release his beloved sword, he hesitated. His eyes lingered on the gentle curve of the scabbard and beautifully crafted handle and cross guard, masterfully shaped to resemble coral. He offers the guard a look, almost pleading. "Me blades fer bein' like a chunk o' me own body. It's not fer bein' easy tu chop off yer arm." When he finally handed the sword to the guard his hand trembled.
He headed to the tented area when the others dragged him away from the pile o' weapons, his eyes lingering like a lover watching their beloved leave for war.
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
He says "What brings travelers to clan Al - Qamarin? Business or respite from the desert?"
Krakan walks forward with a smile on his face, obvious exhaustion from travel evident on his face. "Both actually! Rest and respite from the desert, a refilling of our waterskis, rest for our camel, and ourselves. But also... information. Business. Dalia told us there was a resting point, a way point on the trip to her farms. Would this be that resting point? We were attacked by some sand creatures out there on the dunes, have you seen or heard of any bandits nearby?" He says this as he's removing his arms and laying them aside in the manner that the guard recommends. Krakan knows that his body is his weapon, and he is surely not giving that up. Knowing that his most powerful weapon is still with him, he gives a knowing smile to the guard, flexing his muscles from time to time as he stands over the man, with a gentle nod of the head indicating respect and thanks.
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
Lucan
Lucan wordlessly places his weapons with the guard. He thought about stashing 4 darts in his backpack, but thought better off it. He need to get a false bottom backpack or a padded cloak that could hide a set of 6 darts inside and a casual pat down wouldn't discover them. Things to get he thinks.
He follows the other once they are ready.
Little does the guard know that his weapons are in Lucan's mind.
Signature
Levi Flint - DM - Mad Mage; Korvin - DM - Tyranny of Dragons; Player Lucan - The One Breath, Player Gildor Surion - Balder's Gate-Decent;
Does Samir leave his weapons with the guard?
"Yes, this is a rest stop though depending on the season we are not always here. Yes, the cowardly thieving bastards who make earning a living a challenge when as you have experienced the desert offers enough challenges of its own. No one can pin them down to any particular location. Though they have not dared to bother us as we are under the Hajja's protection" says the guard as he gestures to a nearby tent made of goatskin.
The floor is covered in red carpets with cushions and low tables. There is a clay pitcher on the table with some wooden cups nearby. There are some men with what sounds like passionate bargaining.
Salty
Catching Samir's eye, Salty nods his head towards the ever growing arsenal. He smiles in approval, the party was well armed, or they were. With a glance towards Krakan, the blue haired orc changed his mind; they were armed with Krakan's arms.
With a little chuckle Salty headed towards the tent. He is firstly seeking a place to fill his waterskin if possible. He then has a look at what the fuss is all about, and tries to get a general idea of the trade options.
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
Samir reluctantly relinquishs his weapons and shield. He glances at the others, showing his worry. "If there is an emergency, how would we get our weapons back?"
"As per the rules you can take back your weapons once you leave this rest stop." says the guard to Samir as he begins organizing the number of armaments dropped by the party.
There is water in the clay pitcher and though when looking around you see a water merchant with a wagon laden with water barrels. With a wooden sign that flaps in the breeze that just says 10gp. Now that is rather steep for water though you are in a desert. The water merchant seems to be more akin to a slug as he just sits with a slimy grin as he knows everyone must come to him at some point.
The 2 passionate merchants.
Karim’s eyes narrowed as he lifted the golden saffron threads from the pouch to the sunlight, letting their color catch the gleam. “Jamal, you call this saffron. I’ve seen dust in the alleys with more color! Twenty silver coins, not a coin more.”
Jamal’s lips curved into a faint, patient smile as he ran a finger through the delicate threads, inhaling their perfume of mountain air. “Twenty silver? Karim, my friend, you joke! These threads are plucked at dawn, dried in the sun of the high peaks. They stain fingers, tongues, and souls. Forty silvers, and not a silver less.”
Karim waved a hand, his voice rising. “Forty? I’d sooner eat sand than pay that! Your ‘high peaks’ smell of merchants’ sweat, nothing more!”
Jamal’s eyes gleamed with quiet fire. “Sweat? Ha! A merchant’s sweat is gold if he knows the craft. These threads cost my caravan three full nights of wind, sand, and wolves. You think I’d part for less?”
A child nearby giggled as a stray goat nudged its way through the tent. Karim leaned closer, voice loud and biting. “Three nights? Then tell me, did the wolves fight you or merely laugh? I’ve seen better saffron in the market of Shahr al-Layali for half this price.”
Jamal scoffed, twisting the pouch so the threads caught the sun again. “Shahr al-Layali sells lies in little tins! These threads speak of mountain air, and you, Karim, would have them whisper to you for nothing? No — forty coins, or the pouch returns to the caravan, and may it find another fool.”
Karim’s nostrils flared; the dust of the hard travel clung to his tunic as he measured his words. “Thirty coins. Take it and know your pride does not outweigh your coin.”
Jamal’s smirk widened, eyes twinkling with the amusement of a man who had bargained a hundred such times. “Thirty-five, and you may leave with both pride and saffron. After all, Karim, even a fool deserves spice in his tea.”