Return to the Sands
-
ewayneself
- Dire Badger
- Posts: 183
- Joined: Tue Aug 02, 2005 6:41 am
Moonshade killed a fey.
R'ghtlic, this will perhaps mean something to you. It meant little to me when I heard it, for I hardly know what a fey is. But it meant much to Laurelin. And to Teia.
Laurelin had returned to us again, with news and supplies. Quick at her heels was Moonshade, like an unweaned pup after its mother, allowing neither growl or nip to abate his whining, not yet comprehending that he will ever be denied.
Strong and brave in combat, he felt safe, walking alone in the woods that border the great sand shield.
But the woods have guardians. To be tricked or trapped by the guardians is to die, but to kill them is to provoke anger among those who call the forest their home.
This is a good lesson, though I am sorry that Moonshade had to learn it as he did. If I were approached alone in the forest by such a creature, perhaps I would have done the same as he. But then, I would not be alone in the forest.
Laurelin's anger is like the viper's tooth, sharp and dripping with venom; Teia's anger is like a maul, blunt and crushing, heavy with sorrow; Moonshade did not stay long.
It gave me pain to see Teia upset, so I sent Laurelin away with enough coin to bring her a gift--a certain item I had long ago ordered from a merchant in Hadreth's Glen.
We resumed our work alone, Teia and I, though her sorrow for the fey was great.
I bid her speak to me, in her sorrow, for this is how the Bedine honor the dead--in words. We raise no gravestones or monuments, for in our wanderings we may never return to them. We remember our dead in story and in song, so that they may remain with us. Long are the tales of the generations, as recited by our elders.
She told me of many things, during our rests in the shade. About her family. About her childhood deep in the forest.
Tragedy has sat uninvited around her family's campfire for many long years. Yet she still knows joy. She finds it where she may, as she finds the cactus blossoms while we walk the harsh sands.
There are none like her.
For another few days, we unsuccessfully sought our prey, until the day we saw an Asabi warrior atop a dune. The Asabi, they are like the lizard men of other lands, but more suited to the desert. We give the snake and the beetle and even the scorpion wide berth, but the Asabi always attack on sight, so we return in kind. One quick exchange led to another. And another.
Soon, we were away from the road, with a trail of dead Asabi behind us. We came upon a pile of dead ones that were not dead by our hands. We looked about for their killers, but saw nothing.
Nobanion in his wisdom has graced the humblest of his servants with the power to smell the scent of corruption or evil intent upon the wind. And the hot gusts carried more than sand that day. From the north. Someone there.
I bid Teia to stay behind, for they would frown upon her inclusion, or be tempted to take her. And I made my way north.
Over the crest of the hill I found a lone man in grey robes, who greeted me in Uloushinn, the tongue of the Bedine. Though I knew his intent to be malign, our words to one another were not unkind, for he knew I had news that his master would wish to hear, and I knew that he was not alone.
We were brief and formal, neither wishing to betray weakness to the other. I told him I had a message for Hassan, and for Hassan alone. He replied that Hassan would meet me in that spot, two days hence.
"Nature is bountiful, and no where is that more evident than in the many common yet beneficial herbs and plants she provides. Part of being a druid is to pass on what you have learned to others. I had one particularly wonderful teacher in herbology. Mother Manara, a druid of Chauntea. Blind after an attack by the drow, Mother manara learned to see with her heart and her fingers. Long hours I spent watching her prepare everything from potions to poultices. Sadly, the drow killed her in her own garden. It is to her, my first mentor, that I respectfully dedicate this work. You will always live in my memory, Mother.
-Arien, Archdruid of the Rystall Wood"
These words have I read seventy upon seventy times. They are from a book that was written by Teia's mother, the Archdruid, now absent from Daggerdale and greatly changed by her time in the Cormanthor Forest. I can recite her writing, now, from memory.
It was no longer necessary for us to patrol, so we waited. And, while we waited, Teia gave me lessons in reading, from her mother's book. I felt like a child. Or a pup, like Moonshade.
Laurelin has now returned with the item I requested, which I have hidden away. She brought with her Christophen and his woman Amalanna.
And Renunzio! Renunzio, who has left his work at the Red Rock Inn to walk across the deep sands on short legs. His presence is a blessing with many faces. I would have shed a tear at seeing him, if his appearance were not so absurd. His mask is dyed pink! He looks like fishbait!
It is good that they have come, for there is a long tradition in these lands of killing the messenger. If Hassan's men intend to make war on the Sheikh, they would behead me and hurl my head at the Red-robes' camp.
The severed head is a customary way for a Bedine to make a point.
So tomorrow, we will go in force. We will crest that hill. I will speak the Sheikh's words to Hassan. And I will have his reply.
R'ghtlic, this will perhaps mean something to you. It meant little to me when I heard it, for I hardly know what a fey is. But it meant much to Laurelin. And to Teia.
Laurelin had returned to us again, with news and supplies. Quick at her heels was Moonshade, like an unweaned pup after its mother, allowing neither growl or nip to abate his whining, not yet comprehending that he will ever be denied.
Strong and brave in combat, he felt safe, walking alone in the woods that border the great sand shield.
But the woods have guardians. To be tricked or trapped by the guardians is to die, but to kill them is to provoke anger among those who call the forest their home.
This is a good lesson, though I am sorry that Moonshade had to learn it as he did. If I were approached alone in the forest by such a creature, perhaps I would have done the same as he. But then, I would not be alone in the forest.
Laurelin's anger is like the viper's tooth, sharp and dripping with venom; Teia's anger is like a maul, blunt and crushing, heavy with sorrow; Moonshade did not stay long.
It gave me pain to see Teia upset, so I sent Laurelin away with enough coin to bring her a gift--a certain item I had long ago ordered from a merchant in Hadreth's Glen.
We resumed our work alone, Teia and I, though her sorrow for the fey was great.
I bid her speak to me, in her sorrow, for this is how the Bedine honor the dead--in words. We raise no gravestones or monuments, for in our wanderings we may never return to them. We remember our dead in story and in song, so that they may remain with us. Long are the tales of the generations, as recited by our elders.
She told me of many things, during our rests in the shade. About her family. About her childhood deep in the forest.
Tragedy has sat uninvited around her family's campfire for many long years. Yet she still knows joy. She finds it where she may, as she finds the cactus blossoms while we walk the harsh sands.
There are none like her.
For another few days, we unsuccessfully sought our prey, until the day we saw an Asabi warrior atop a dune. The Asabi, they are like the lizard men of other lands, but more suited to the desert. We give the snake and the beetle and even the scorpion wide berth, but the Asabi always attack on sight, so we return in kind. One quick exchange led to another. And another.
Soon, we were away from the road, with a trail of dead Asabi behind us. We came upon a pile of dead ones that were not dead by our hands. We looked about for their killers, but saw nothing.
Nobanion in his wisdom has graced the humblest of his servants with the power to smell the scent of corruption or evil intent upon the wind. And the hot gusts carried more than sand that day. From the north. Someone there.
I bid Teia to stay behind, for they would frown upon her inclusion, or be tempted to take her. And I made my way north.
Over the crest of the hill I found a lone man in grey robes, who greeted me in Uloushinn, the tongue of the Bedine. Though I knew his intent to be malign, our words to one another were not unkind, for he knew I had news that his master would wish to hear, and I knew that he was not alone.
We were brief and formal, neither wishing to betray weakness to the other. I told him I had a message for Hassan, and for Hassan alone. He replied that Hassan would meet me in that spot, two days hence.
"Nature is bountiful, and no where is that more evident than in the many common yet beneficial herbs and plants she provides. Part of being a druid is to pass on what you have learned to others. I had one particularly wonderful teacher in herbology. Mother Manara, a druid of Chauntea. Blind after an attack by the drow, Mother manara learned to see with her heart and her fingers. Long hours I spent watching her prepare everything from potions to poultices. Sadly, the drow killed her in her own garden. It is to her, my first mentor, that I respectfully dedicate this work. You will always live in my memory, Mother.
-Arien, Archdruid of the Rystall Wood"
These words have I read seventy upon seventy times. They are from a book that was written by Teia's mother, the Archdruid, now absent from Daggerdale and greatly changed by her time in the Cormanthor Forest. I can recite her writing, now, from memory.
It was no longer necessary for us to patrol, so we waited. And, while we waited, Teia gave me lessons in reading, from her mother's book. I felt like a child. Or a pup, like Moonshade.
Laurelin has now returned with the item I requested, which I have hidden away. She brought with her Christophen and his woman Amalanna.
And Renunzio! Renunzio, who has left his work at the Red Rock Inn to walk across the deep sands on short legs. His presence is a blessing with many faces. I would have shed a tear at seeing him, if his appearance were not so absurd. His mask is dyed pink! He looks like fishbait!
It is good that they have come, for there is a long tradition in these lands of killing the messenger. If Hassan's men intend to make war on the Sheikh, they would behead me and hurl my head at the Red-robes' camp.
The severed head is a customary way for a Bedine to make a point.
So tomorrow, we will go in force. We will crest that hill. I will speak the Sheikh's words to Hassan. And I will have his reply.
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ewayneself
- Dire Badger
- Posts: 183
- Joined: Tue Aug 02, 2005 6:41 am
(Lovely Bedine diplomatic poetry courtesy of Brokenbone....)
In the high heat of the day, we made arduous footsteps to the appointed place. I had with me stout Christophen and Amalanna, Teia, Laurelin, and Renunzio. Laurelin stayed hidden, but the others were there as a show of force, lest Hassan be tempted by our weakness.
Hassan was there, as promised. I spoke unto him in the tongue of my people, saying: O Hassan, whose greyrobed men cross the desert like a sandstorm, the many-whiskered Shiekh Wuhaydi of the Red-Robed Tiyahi has bid me speak these words to you...
O Rider on a mount, pure for untold generations,
Brownish white as bred by the Bai Kabor
Tighten the girth on his wide body, ready provisions
And let him fly as if he'd stepped on hot embers
Ridden by a lad used to mirage-strewn spaces;
Akbar Akh Asad, if directed, will complete every mission.
Spur him on toward Hassan, whom we highly commend,
Whom you'll find sitting taut as a long-winged hawk
In a long tent with spacious sections
By coffee-pots glistening from the fire's hot glow
To Hammad, the foe of yellow fanged fighters
extend my greetings, panther and do not delay.
Say: Nassar son of Uwayh is a pouncing eagle
Fearing only that in meeting places they say he failed
And the sons of Sittah fight like the Artinn Ruabim
Men of valor whenever cavalries clash.
And four sons of Mughaysib fight like wolves
Dashing toward the clash like young camels.
And Wuhaydi, chief of red clad Bedine
On camelback, like a suckling she camel in search of grass.
And we Tiyaha, ever like an aziir gripped at the hilt
Provide profit to the camel-merchant although we are few.
Our lands are lands of plenty whose harvests we glean
And those sent forth to scout them out are quickly met
With lads firing weapons unrestrained
Forming ranks around Wuhaydi four score strong.
By the life of he who created rain in the clouds
We'll not concede our land while we sit squarely on a mount.
I spoke to him further, counseling him to raid elsewhere, as I hoped to avoid the war. And so it was that, when my words were finished, Hassan pondered a moment. Great was my hope that war would be averted, for a time, and that we would return to Wuhaydi with a message of peace. Hassan bid me wait, while he returned to his men and readied his reply.
Long was the span we passed beneath the merciless sun. The owl and the bat were already hunting before he sent a man to us. The messenger spoke unto me in the tongue of my people, saying...
O Rider upon a scrawny mount with neck drooping
And belly flesh twisted from so many trips
Convey my regards to Nassar and Wuhaydi
And these words to the people whom we call Tiyaha:
Water your herds in Wadi Hasi and pasture them in the far hills
But at Wadi Shariah you have nothing to find !
We Tarabin are like a ring in the nose of a rutting camel:
Famous among the Bedine as the Artinn Ruabim
Ask the daughters of Burayr what happened at the threshing floor
when you fled on camel back all the way to Wadi Masmiyah
And surely you couldn't forget the Hanajrah
Their lance-blades as if dipped in viper's poison
We will grant you no peace, no peace will you see
Until the wolf recites rhymes at our night-time dances
Or an ostrich bitch suckles a jackal.
In silent rage, I stood before this messenger, my neck hairs like soldiers at attention. The meaning of his words was not lost on me.
R'ghtlic, you know my tale. You know what I have seen. I know what comes of the women when the Bedine make war. I thought of the woman once taken for me, spared rape because of her youth. Younger than my own sister. Nearly a child. Her face held roughly in the hands of my father as he offered her to me like a he would offer a camel or a goat.
This grey-robed man stood before me and, with his words, bragged about the women they have raped.
I could have struck him down. If we had won the fight, Wuhaydi would perhaps have been pleased, but perhaps not. Would he side with Bedine over outsider, and refuse us the oils? His rivals dead, he could turn on us for making war unbidden on a Bedine tribe. He would gain our wealth and our women, and it would cost him nothing.
For the children of Hadreth's Glen, I somehow kept my aziir tied to my belt.
I turned, in my rage, and and strode down the hill toward the others. Unthinkingly, I spoke to them of Hassan's message, and what it said.
R'gltlic, pray to Nobanion for me. Bring his strength upon me. For I am a weakling and a coward. I did not wish to bear the burden of my unsatisfied anger alone. So I told them about the women. About the bragging.
They reacted in anger and revulsion, as I did. Even Renunzio's words only made things worse. "You can't unrape the raped". He meant well. But it made a deep wound for Amalanna.
She was the most furious, of course. At the men. At the desert. At me. I allowed her to speak unkind words to me, for the sake of Christophen, for the sake of her own troubles, and for the sake of the mission.
I did not deserve her rebuke, but I deserved rebuke from someone, and hers would do.
Like the tent that shields the camels from the wind, the outpost was overfull of heavy air. While the others sulked or grumbled or cried, I stepped outside to do my grumbling in the dark. Teia soon followed, to calm me.
Oh the painful beauty of the desert at night. It hurts, to feel it so cool. To look across the dunes with eyes that do not hurt. And to know that you must not linger long. For the shadows lurk. And they do not wait.
Soon, a shadow was upon us.
I am the holy warrior, but Teia got the better of it. I fumbled with my single weapons, while her two blades danced in the moonlight. We slew the fearsome thing, then hurried inside.
I hurled my weapon to the floor in a rage, provoking elven curses from Laurelin, who was trying to sleep.
I would be done with this place, R'ghtlic. Soon. I will deliver the message to Wuhaydi this day. Then our obligation will be complete. He will give us the oils. He must. And we will go.
In the high heat of the day, we made arduous footsteps to the appointed place. I had with me stout Christophen and Amalanna, Teia, Laurelin, and Renunzio. Laurelin stayed hidden, but the others were there as a show of force, lest Hassan be tempted by our weakness.
Hassan was there, as promised. I spoke unto him in the tongue of my people, saying: O Hassan, whose greyrobed men cross the desert like a sandstorm, the many-whiskered Shiekh Wuhaydi of the Red-Robed Tiyahi has bid me speak these words to you...
O Rider on a mount, pure for untold generations,
Brownish white as bred by the Bai Kabor
Tighten the girth on his wide body, ready provisions
And let him fly as if he'd stepped on hot embers
Ridden by a lad used to mirage-strewn spaces;
Akbar Akh Asad, if directed, will complete every mission.
Spur him on toward Hassan, whom we highly commend,
Whom you'll find sitting taut as a long-winged hawk
In a long tent with spacious sections
By coffee-pots glistening from the fire's hot glow
To Hammad, the foe of yellow fanged fighters
extend my greetings, panther and do not delay.
Say: Nassar son of Uwayh is a pouncing eagle
Fearing only that in meeting places they say he failed
And the sons of Sittah fight like the Artinn Ruabim
Men of valor whenever cavalries clash.
And four sons of Mughaysib fight like wolves
Dashing toward the clash like young camels.
And Wuhaydi, chief of red clad Bedine
On camelback, like a suckling she camel in search of grass.
And we Tiyaha, ever like an aziir gripped at the hilt
Provide profit to the camel-merchant although we are few.
Our lands are lands of plenty whose harvests we glean
And those sent forth to scout them out are quickly met
With lads firing weapons unrestrained
Forming ranks around Wuhaydi four score strong.
By the life of he who created rain in the clouds
We'll not concede our land while we sit squarely on a mount.
I spoke to him further, counseling him to raid elsewhere, as I hoped to avoid the war. And so it was that, when my words were finished, Hassan pondered a moment. Great was my hope that war would be averted, for a time, and that we would return to Wuhaydi with a message of peace. Hassan bid me wait, while he returned to his men and readied his reply.
Long was the span we passed beneath the merciless sun. The owl and the bat were already hunting before he sent a man to us. The messenger spoke unto me in the tongue of my people, saying...
O Rider upon a scrawny mount with neck drooping
And belly flesh twisted from so many trips
Convey my regards to Nassar and Wuhaydi
And these words to the people whom we call Tiyaha:
Water your herds in Wadi Hasi and pasture them in the far hills
But at Wadi Shariah you have nothing to find !
We Tarabin are like a ring in the nose of a rutting camel:
Famous among the Bedine as the Artinn Ruabim
Ask the daughters of Burayr what happened at the threshing floor
when you fled on camel back all the way to Wadi Masmiyah
And surely you couldn't forget the Hanajrah
Their lance-blades as if dipped in viper's poison
We will grant you no peace, no peace will you see
Until the wolf recites rhymes at our night-time dances
Or an ostrich bitch suckles a jackal.
In silent rage, I stood before this messenger, my neck hairs like soldiers at attention. The meaning of his words was not lost on me.
R'ghtlic, you know my tale. You know what I have seen. I know what comes of the women when the Bedine make war. I thought of the woman once taken for me, spared rape because of her youth. Younger than my own sister. Nearly a child. Her face held roughly in the hands of my father as he offered her to me like a he would offer a camel or a goat.
This grey-robed man stood before me and, with his words, bragged about the women they have raped.
I could have struck him down. If we had won the fight, Wuhaydi would perhaps have been pleased, but perhaps not. Would he side with Bedine over outsider, and refuse us the oils? His rivals dead, he could turn on us for making war unbidden on a Bedine tribe. He would gain our wealth and our women, and it would cost him nothing.
For the children of Hadreth's Glen, I somehow kept my aziir tied to my belt.
I turned, in my rage, and and strode down the hill toward the others. Unthinkingly, I spoke to them of Hassan's message, and what it said.
R'gltlic, pray to Nobanion for me. Bring his strength upon me. For I am a weakling and a coward. I did not wish to bear the burden of my unsatisfied anger alone. So I told them about the women. About the bragging.
They reacted in anger and revulsion, as I did. Even Renunzio's words only made things worse. "You can't unrape the raped". He meant well. But it made a deep wound for Amalanna.
She was the most furious, of course. At the men. At the desert. At me. I allowed her to speak unkind words to me, for the sake of Christophen, for the sake of her own troubles, and for the sake of the mission.
I did not deserve her rebuke, but I deserved rebuke from someone, and hers would do.
Like the tent that shields the camels from the wind, the outpost was overfull of heavy air. While the others sulked or grumbled or cried, I stepped outside to do my grumbling in the dark. Teia soon followed, to calm me.
Oh the painful beauty of the desert at night. It hurts, to feel it so cool. To look across the dunes with eyes that do not hurt. And to know that you must not linger long. For the shadows lurk. And they do not wait.
Soon, a shadow was upon us.
I am the holy warrior, but Teia got the better of it. I fumbled with my single weapons, while her two blades danced in the moonlight. We slew the fearsome thing, then hurried inside.
I hurled my weapon to the floor in a rage, provoking elven curses from Laurelin, who was trying to sleep.
I would be done with this place, R'ghtlic. Soon. I will deliver the message to Wuhaydi this day. Then our obligation will be complete. He will give us the oils. He must. And we will go.
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RangerDeWood
- Ogre
- Posts: 633
- Joined: Sun Jan 11, 2004 6:03 am
- Location: Pittsburgh, PA
- Contact:
Always next time, I guess. Keep up the tales, oh storyteller of the sands. 
-
ewayneself
- Dire Badger
- Posts: 183
- Joined: Tue Aug 02, 2005 6:41 am
Like the opossum's back, the red-robes' camp was swollen with young. As great in number were the veiled ones who tended them. In a mass, the women huddled and gossiped around the rock near the water, washing the mens' robes.
Though the night we met Hassan was painful for us, provoking us to anger, one against the other, there was still some blessing in it, for a sort of accord was struck between those who came from the Dale of the Dagger to assist at the outpost. All had agreed, that night, that they would see the women and children protected, no matter how the men decided to settle their feud.
This became our mission, R'ghtlic, for all would see it done: To get the Balsam Oil from Sheikh Wahaydi, of course. And to protect the women and children, should the men make war.
Sheikh Wuhaydi allowed me to deliver my message to him alone. This could be a sign of trust, or a sign that he does not view me as a possible threat. I knew not which. But he did not know the number and strength of my allies, as they circled his camp like wolves.
I gave him the message in whispers, lest its words humiliate him to his men. Then I counseled him for long moments that he should do as Hassan had bid. Leave this place. Go to the Wadi Hasi. Save his women and children.
He greeted my plan with many frowns and a great furrowing of the brow, then said unto me:
"I have had many dealings with Hassan and I know his way. He will feign allow us to move, then wait until the the tents are down, the camels loaded and the women and children lined up to walk. Then he will betray his word and attack a defenseless tribe."
I replied to him, saying:
"If you make to retreat from here, my allies will protect you as you go. But we will not aid you if you make war, for we do not hold one tribe above the other."
In anger, he replied, saying:
"You would refuse to aid the Tiyaha, though we provide you with the rare Balsam Oils?"
And I said to him:
"You will have our aid, if you in your wisdom choose to leave, O wiley Sheikh."
He rubbed his long whiskers a moment, then said:
"I will send a scout to the Wadi Hasi, and see if we may camp there. If the Wadi Hasi is worthy, we will go."
That matter settled, I inquired about the Balsam Oils, saying:
"I have done all that you required of me, and now I ask for the Oils, that our deal may be done."
He replied:
"The Balsam Oils are found far away, at Wadi Masmiyah. When first we spoke, I sent my fastest rider there. He should return any day."
I examined his words and demeanor, and found truth in his eyes. And so it was with that news that I returned to our outpost.
There I found Teia, whose stomach was weary of boar meat. She desired something else to eat, and thought to hunt snake.
The vipers in this place resemble ones deeper into the desert, but larger. Not exactly the same. I saw some risk in it, but would not deny Teia, or seem fearful in her eyes.
It is not difficult to find a snake, if you are fool enough to seek one. It was not long before we found one curled in the shade of a rock, staring impassively at us, though we stood far away.
We struck at it from afar, but it did not die. Instead, it rose up on itself, great in its girth, spitting its venom forty spans!
The venom struck me in the face, burning into my eyes, weakening me so that I could not move. I could only watch in miserable silence as it wound from behind its rock and struck at me, again and again. Teia's blades went to their work, but the snake was large, and quick as a camel thief's betrayal. As soon as I could find the strength, we ran.
We were both sorely wounded. It is through Nobanion's grace alone that we avoided the jackal or hyena on our slow stumbling journey back to the outpost. There, we recovered for many days, as we waited for word from the Sheikh.
When we were alone, we sulked and ate our boar meat, comforting one another as best we could.
I gave her my gift. She had spoken to me long ago of her father, Arak'iel, and a gift he had brought to her from the Dale of Shadows. The gift had burned in a fire, long ago, and so I thought to replace it. It was a simple mirror.
She cried, though I believe the tears were happy. R'ghtlic, it would tear my heart to think otherwise.
One morning, as I was leaving to milk the camel, I spied her looking in the mirror, a question on her face, as if she inquired of it whether she was attractive. She does not know her beauty. How could this be? I lingered a moment. My chest rattled with the pounding of my heart.
I am a fool, like the young camel who tries to climb under a fence, not yet realizing he has a hump. How long have I loved Teia and not even known it?
When we were not alone, our allies aided us. We made sentry on the hill south of their camp, for we believed Hassan would attack from the south. We planned to take the women and children to our outpost, under the protection of the Sergeant.
We thought perhaps to send our Sand Snake, Laurelin, into the camp to see if the Oils may be hidden there. But the risk was great, for dogs roamed the camp and might catch her scent. And the Oils could be well-hidden, or not there at all. I believed the Sheikh to be telling the truth.
We thought to cloak Renunzio in magick and disguise, making him the Demon of the Wadi, for the Bedine are superstitious and fear magick above all things. With his capers and tricks, he could perhaps frighten both tribes from the Oasis. Perhaps for generations!
Then Renunzio spun a complex scheme that involved the red-robed Tiyahi men dressing as women, for some reason. I explained that this would never happen. That such humiliation among the Bedine men would be worse than the humiliation of defeat. Undeterred, he prattled on, taking great delight in my discomfort with the subject.
So I made him milk the camel.
But watching him milk the camel only made my discomfort worse.
Shamelessly, he speaks of womanly matters. Of the things men and women do. Unseemly words spew forth from his mouth as far and as fast as the venom from that snake. And they make me feel just as weak.
If he loved Teia, he would simply tell her so. This little man with his ridiculous parasol. He is far braver than I.
Our plans are made. Our allies are assembled. If Hassan attacks, we will defend. Soon, Wuhaydi's scout will return with news of the Wadi Hasi. If all goes well, Wuhaydi will quit this place and slaughter will be averted.
Though the night we met Hassan was painful for us, provoking us to anger, one against the other, there was still some blessing in it, for a sort of accord was struck between those who came from the Dale of the Dagger to assist at the outpost. All had agreed, that night, that they would see the women and children protected, no matter how the men decided to settle their feud.
This became our mission, R'ghtlic, for all would see it done: To get the Balsam Oil from Sheikh Wahaydi, of course. And to protect the women and children, should the men make war.
Sheikh Wuhaydi allowed me to deliver my message to him alone. This could be a sign of trust, or a sign that he does not view me as a possible threat. I knew not which. But he did not know the number and strength of my allies, as they circled his camp like wolves.
I gave him the message in whispers, lest its words humiliate him to his men. Then I counseled him for long moments that he should do as Hassan had bid. Leave this place. Go to the Wadi Hasi. Save his women and children.
He greeted my plan with many frowns and a great furrowing of the brow, then said unto me:
"I have had many dealings with Hassan and I know his way. He will feign allow us to move, then wait until the the tents are down, the camels loaded and the women and children lined up to walk. Then he will betray his word and attack a defenseless tribe."
I replied to him, saying:
"If you make to retreat from here, my allies will protect you as you go. But we will not aid you if you make war, for we do not hold one tribe above the other."
In anger, he replied, saying:
"You would refuse to aid the Tiyaha, though we provide you with the rare Balsam Oils?"
And I said to him:
"You will have our aid, if you in your wisdom choose to leave, O wiley Sheikh."
He rubbed his long whiskers a moment, then said:
"I will send a scout to the Wadi Hasi, and see if we may camp there. If the Wadi Hasi is worthy, we will go."
That matter settled, I inquired about the Balsam Oils, saying:
"I have done all that you required of me, and now I ask for the Oils, that our deal may be done."
He replied:
"The Balsam Oils are found far away, at Wadi Masmiyah. When first we spoke, I sent my fastest rider there. He should return any day."
I examined his words and demeanor, and found truth in his eyes. And so it was with that news that I returned to our outpost.
There I found Teia, whose stomach was weary of boar meat. She desired something else to eat, and thought to hunt snake.
The vipers in this place resemble ones deeper into the desert, but larger. Not exactly the same. I saw some risk in it, but would not deny Teia, or seem fearful in her eyes.
It is not difficult to find a snake, if you are fool enough to seek one. It was not long before we found one curled in the shade of a rock, staring impassively at us, though we stood far away.
We struck at it from afar, but it did not die. Instead, it rose up on itself, great in its girth, spitting its venom forty spans!
The venom struck me in the face, burning into my eyes, weakening me so that I could not move. I could only watch in miserable silence as it wound from behind its rock and struck at me, again and again. Teia's blades went to their work, but the snake was large, and quick as a camel thief's betrayal. As soon as I could find the strength, we ran.
We were both sorely wounded. It is through Nobanion's grace alone that we avoided the jackal or hyena on our slow stumbling journey back to the outpost. There, we recovered for many days, as we waited for word from the Sheikh.
When we were alone, we sulked and ate our boar meat, comforting one another as best we could.
I gave her my gift. She had spoken to me long ago of her father, Arak'iel, and a gift he had brought to her from the Dale of Shadows. The gift had burned in a fire, long ago, and so I thought to replace it. It was a simple mirror.
She cried, though I believe the tears were happy. R'ghtlic, it would tear my heart to think otherwise.
One morning, as I was leaving to milk the camel, I spied her looking in the mirror, a question on her face, as if she inquired of it whether she was attractive. She does not know her beauty. How could this be? I lingered a moment. My chest rattled with the pounding of my heart.
I am a fool, like the young camel who tries to climb under a fence, not yet realizing he has a hump. How long have I loved Teia and not even known it?
When we were not alone, our allies aided us. We made sentry on the hill south of their camp, for we believed Hassan would attack from the south. We planned to take the women and children to our outpost, under the protection of the Sergeant.
We thought perhaps to send our Sand Snake, Laurelin, into the camp to see if the Oils may be hidden there. But the risk was great, for dogs roamed the camp and might catch her scent. And the Oils could be well-hidden, or not there at all. I believed the Sheikh to be telling the truth.
We thought to cloak Renunzio in magick and disguise, making him the Demon of the Wadi, for the Bedine are superstitious and fear magick above all things. With his capers and tricks, he could perhaps frighten both tribes from the Oasis. Perhaps for generations!
Then Renunzio spun a complex scheme that involved the red-robed Tiyahi men dressing as women, for some reason. I explained that this would never happen. That such humiliation among the Bedine men would be worse than the humiliation of defeat. Undeterred, he prattled on, taking great delight in my discomfort with the subject.
So I made him milk the camel.
But watching him milk the camel only made my discomfort worse.
Shamelessly, he speaks of womanly matters. Of the things men and women do. Unseemly words spew forth from his mouth as far and as fast as the venom from that snake. And they make me feel just as weak.
If he loved Teia, he would simply tell her so. This little man with his ridiculous parasol. He is far braver than I.
Our plans are made. Our allies are assembled. If Hassan attacks, we will defend. Soon, Wuhaydi's scout will return with news of the Wadi Hasi. If all goes well, Wuhaydi will quit this place and slaughter will be averted.
In her defense, Teia said she was craving chicken. It was that Bedine fellow who said "snake tastes like chicken". 
I, not events, have the power to make me happy or unhappy today. I can choose which it shall be. Yesterday is dead, tomorrow hasn't arrived yet. I have just one day, today, and I'm going to be happy in it.~~Groucho Marx
-
ewayneself
- Dire Badger
- Posts: 183
- Joined: Tue Aug 02, 2005 6:41 am
It is done. We are home.
Yes, R'ghtlic, I call this place home now--this place of rains and rivers, strange beasts, questionable morals--for it is the dwelling place of the ones I love. Here, they make their fortunes, lose their loves, and abide together by the fires of their Inns.
We have returned, because we have secured the Oils. It happened as I say it here.
Wuhaydi's scout returned, but the news was not good. The Wadi Hasi was barren and dry and Wuhaydi would not move there. War would come. Slaughter, perhaps. If Wuhaydi's tribe was decimated, our cause would be lost.
Hastily, we made new plans. Rather than defend, we would attack. If we could strike first against Hassan and his men, we could avert an attack on Wuhaydi's camp.
We sent out our scouts into the night. Laurelin and Willow, with Teia to track. They found Hassan's camp. Quickly, Laurelin and Teia set traps for them, then Laurelin got their attention.
So they came, in great number, with their grey robes flowing and their aziir glinting in the moonlight.
The traps did their work, and then I charged, my ululation piercing the air, my aziir held high!
Chrisophen's arrows flew past my ears, but I trusted his aim. I know not how many I slew, or how many were slain by arrows from afar. But soon I stood before Hassan, trading blows one against the other. As it should be. At last.
He was strong--mightier than I, perhaps. He had rubbed camel dung on his mustache, so that his breath made the bile rise in my stomach. He was tricky, with many feints and dodges. But the face of Nobanion was my protection. His brass-finished scimitar met my shield each time he swung it.
His trickery would perhaps have ended me. His feet were solid in the sands, where mine faltered. But Christophen's arrow evened the odds. When the arrow hit, Hassan's hesitation was all I needed.
I took from his corpse his well-crafted aziir and shield, and one other treasure, which I stuffed in my pack.
We searched their little camp and found no more men. No camel or goat. No woman or child.
I went straightaway to the Sheikh, while the others lingered behind me, just outside his camp. We would have our business concluded, that very night. I stood before Wuhaydi, unbowed, for once.
I reached into my bag and tossed to Wuhaydi's feet the treasure that I had taken from Hassan's body--Hassan's bloodied head.
It is as I said before: The severed head is a customary way for a Bedine to make a point.
And my point was well-made. The Sheikh realized that we would wait no longer and that I would see this matter done. I gave him gold, took the Oils, and went on my way.
We did not let the sand shift under our feet. Before sunrise, we were packed and ready to return to the Dale of the Dagger. We were underway before the chill was gone from the air. And by the next day's sunset, Renunzio and I were splashing water in one another's faces, as we swam in the cold waters of the Dagger Falls.
My little khriema is still on its hill. My meager possessions are still in their place. Our time amongst the dunes and scorpions is done.
Our purpose for going has been met, and my hand was upon it.
I have even found the courage to profess my affection to Teia, and to have her profess hers to me.
Noble Christophen, who taught the Brother of the Lion to hunt, whose judgement I respect over all other men, came to me saying: "Well done!" And in my pride, I heard his exclamation, and kept my troubles silent.
But, like a scorpion on the neck of a sleeping man, my sorrow goes scarcely noticed--until it stings.
R'ghtlic, your counsel is sorely missed. I am alone in my faith, for there are none here who call upon the name of Nobanion.
I would seek your wisdom if I could, for I am troubled. And I can speak of this to no one. Already, I have been ashamed to have my friends see the true nature of the Bedine. I would shame myself no further.
Alone, I went to Wuhaydi's camp that night, but I was not the only outsider in that place. A line of grey-robed women stood beside the red-robed Sheikh, under guard, wailing and weeping. From the Shiekh's gloating eyes and the color of the womens' robes, I knew what had transpired. And I grieved.
Hassan's grey-robed tribe was not the threat we surmised. They were spread out, sleeping in threes and fours among the rocks and crevices, like dogs. And Hassan's men were not without their own women and children.
Though I had said we would not help Wuhaydi make war, he had seen to it that we would. Wuhaydi had watched us. And when we attacked Hassan's people, so did he, raiding the places where their women hid.
The Sheikh spoke his long words and made a great ceremony over his damned Balsam Oils. I stood there, once again impotent in my rage; like that night long ago, when I watched my own tribesman descend on another tribe's women; or like the day when we met Hassan.
I could have struck Sheikh Wuhaydi down and brought the wrath of my allies upon the Red-robes. But what then? We would leave more widows and orphans to the mercies of the desert. I could have bought the women from him and taken them from there. But to where? And by what right? This was the life they knew. Who was I to force them to leave it?
Xavien said I was heroic. Mestin was so proud. Laurelin and Teia look at me with admiration. I am respected. I have good work. There is a woman who cares for me, and I for her. I have happiness, or the start of it.
But I have bought my own happiness with the grief of the widow and the torture of the virgin. In my impatience, I chose to fight, rather than let the Bedine make their war. We chose to attack, rather than defend.
Though long outcast from my people, I am still one of them. A raiding tribesman, taking what I want, by the edge of the aziir. Slaughtering the weak. Running from the strong.
I cannot change the ways of the Bedine. But, by Nobanion's mane, I can still find the strength to reject them.
I cannot save every woman who lives in the desert. But, by Nobanion's whiskers, I can save one.
When I am strong enough, I will go deep into the Anauroch, find my sister and bring her hence.
I will atone for my folly in the desert and Fatima will live her days in the Dalelands, growing into the woman she should be.
By Nobanion's eye teeth, I will not consummate my own happiness until this has come to pass. Elohim. Elohim.
Yes, R'ghtlic, I call this place home now--this place of rains and rivers, strange beasts, questionable morals--for it is the dwelling place of the ones I love. Here, they make their fortunes, lose their loves, and abide together by the fires of their Inns.
We have returned, because we have secured the Oils. It happened as I say it here.
Wuhaydi's scout returned, but the news was not good. The Wadi Hasi was barren and dry and Wuhaydi would not move there. War would come. Slaughter, perhaps. If Wuhaydi's tribe was decimated, our cause would be lost.
Hastily, we made new plans. Rather than defend, we would attack. If we could strike first against Hassan and his men, we could avert an attack on Wuhaydi's camp.
We sent out our scouts into the night. Laurelin and Willow, with Teia to track. They found Hassan's camp. Quickly, Laurelin and Teia set traps for them, then Laurelin got their attention.
So they came, in great number, with their grey robes flowing and their aziir glinting in the moonlight.
The traps did their work, and then I charged, my ululation piercing the air, my aziir held high!
Chrisophen's arrows flew past my ears, but I trusted his aim. I know not how many I slew, or how many were slain by arrows from afar. But soon I stood before Hassan, trading blows one against the other. As it should be. At last.
He was strong--mightier than I, perhaps. He had rubbed camel dung on his mustache, so that his breath made the bile rise in my stomach. He was tricky, with many feints and dodges. But the face of Nobanion was my protection. His brass-finished scimitar met my shield each time he swung it.
His trickery would perhaps have ended me. His feet were solid in the sands, where mine faltered. But Christophen's arrow evened the odds. When the arrow hit, Hassan's hesitation was all I needed.
I took from his corpse his well-crafted aziir and shield, and one other treasure, which I stuffed in my pack.
We searched their little camp and found no more men. No camel or goat. No woman or child.
I went straightaway to the Sheikh, while the others lingered behind me, just outside his camp. We would have our business concluded, that very night. I stood before Wuhaydi, unbowed, for once.
I reached into my bag and tossed to Wuhaydi's feet the treasure that I had taken from Hassan's body--Hassan's bloodied head.
It is as I said before: The severed head is a customary way for a Bedine to make a point.
And my point was well-made. The Sheikh realized that we would wait no longer and that I would see this matter done. I gave him gold, took the Oils, and went on my way.
We did not let the sand shift under our feet. Before sunrise, we were packed and ready to return to the Dale of the Dagger. We were underway before the chill was gone from the air. And by the next day's sunset, Renunzio and I were splashing water in one another's faces, as we swam in the cold waters of the Dagger Falls.
My little khriema is still on its hill. My meager possessions are still in their place. Our time amongst the dunes and scorpions is done.
Our purpose for going has been met, and my hand was upon it.
I have even found the courage to profess my affection to Teia, and to have her profess hers to me.
Noble Christophen, who taught the Brother of the Lion to hunt, whose judgement I respect over all other men, came to me saying: "Well done!" And in my pride, I heard his exclamation, and kept my troubles silent.
But, like a scorpion on the neck of a sleeping man, my sorrow goes scarcely noticed--until it stings.
R'ghtlic, your counsel is sorely missed. I am alone in my faith, for there are none here who call upon the name of Nobanion.
I would seek your wisdom if I could, for I am troubled. And I can speak of this to no one. Already, I have been ashamed to have my friends see the true nature of the Bedine. I would shame myself no further.
Alone, I went to Wuhaydi's camp that night, but I was not the only outsider in that place. A line of grey-robed women stood beside the red-robed Sheikh, under guard, wailing and weeping. From the Shiekh's gloating eyes and the color of the womens' robes, I knew what had transpired. And I grieved.
Hassan's grey-robed tribe was not the threat we surmised. They were spread out, sleeping in threes and fours among the rocks and crevices, like dogs. And Hassan's men were not without their own women and children.
Though I had said we would not help Wuhaydi make war, he had seen to it that we would. Wuhaydi had watched us. And when we attacked Hassan's people, so did he, raiding the places where their women hid.
The Sheikh spoke his long words and made a great ceremony over his damned Balsam Oils. I stood there, once again impotent in my rage; like that night long ago, when I watched my own tribesman descend on another tribe's women; or like the day when we met Hassan.
I could have struck Sheikh Wuhaydi down and brought the wrath of my allies upon the Red-robes. But what then? We would leave more widows and orphans to the mercies of the desert. I could have bought the women from him and taken them from there. But to where? And by what right? This was the life they knew. Who was I to force them to leave it?
Xavien said I was heroic. Mestin was so proud. Laurelin and Teia look at me with admiration. I am respected. I have good work. There is a woman who cares for me, and I for her. I have happiness, or the start of it.
But I have bought my own happiness with the grief of the widow and the torture of the virgin. In my impatience, I chose to fight, rather than let the Bedine make their war. We chose to attack, rather than defend.
Though long outcast from my people, I am still one of them. A raiding tribesman, taking what I want, by the edge of the aziir. Slaughtering the weak. Running from the strong.
I cannot change the ways of the Bedine. But, by Nobanion's mane, I can still find the strength to reject them.
I cannot save every woman who lives in the desert. But, by Nobanion's whiskers, I can save one.
When I am strong enough, I will go deep into the Anauroch, find my sister and bring her hence.
I will atone for my folly in the desert and Fatima will live her days in the Dalelands, growing into the woman she should be.
By Nobanion's eye teeth, I will not consummate my own happiness until this has come to pass. Elohim. Elohim.
-
psycho_leo
- Rust Monster
- Posts: 1162
- Joined: Tue Jan 17, 2006 2:10 am
- Location: Brazil
What a great finish to a great story. Wayne, this was so moving. 
Thanks to all of the players, particularly Wayne, for making this such a fun arc to DM. Thank you also Misty, Ogre, Iarwain, TikaWM, RangerDeWood, Danielm, Aitana, Twiggy, Psycho Leo and especially my partner in crime Brokenbone for helping bring this tale to life.
Kudos, all.
-Mizbiz
Thanks to all of the players, particularly Wayne, for making this such a fun arc to DM. Thank you also Misty, Ogre, Iarwain, TikaWM, RangerDeWood, Danielm, Aitana, Twiggy, Psycho Leo and especially my partner in crime Brokenbone for helping bring this tale to life.
Kudos, all.
-Mizbiz
I, not events, have the power to make me happy or unhappy today. I can choose which it shall be. Yesterday is dead, tomorrow hasn't arrived yet. I have just one day, today, and I'm going to be happy in it.~~Groucho Marx
This is just great!
Not only do I love the things happening on DD, but I love reading about it too - and it seems we have alot of talented writers of DD.
Keep it comming
Not only do I love the things happening on DD, but I love reading about it too - and it seems we have alot of talented writers of DD.
Keep it comming
Forum: Iarwain
GSID: iarwain_benadar
GMT+1
Playing: Mondays and Tuesdays 8pm on MS
Current character: William "Will" Goodbarrel
NWN1 character: Moonshade
GSID: iarwain_benadar
GMT+1
Playing: Mondays and Tuesdays 8pm on MS
Current character: William "Will" Goodbarrel
NWN1 character: Moonshade
