The air is buzzing in the market of Khedris – the great market that stretches from the fishmongers on the shore to Caravan Square. Halmaro the Red – master of the powerful Merchants’ Guild, second in power in Khedris only to the emperor of Lantara himself – is organizing a caravan! And this is no ordinary caravan; it will carry goods and gifts for the wedding of Halmaro’s daughter Kira to Prince Eiru of Mashanda.
The caravan will be huge, even by Khedran standards. It includes 220 camels, 50 horses, 40 head of fattened cattle, and 50 oxen pulling five wagons. The wagons are quite a rarity in a caravan; some of the wedding gifts must be huge!
The word is out that Halmaro is looking for herdsmen, scribes, translators, cooks, guides, physicians, laborers, and other hirelings for the caravan. Many of these will come from the various guilds, but there will be plenty of room for freelancers. Of course, guards will be needed too. Caravanning is not without its risks; bandits, highwaymen, and thieves take their toll on the caravans, as do sandstorms, heat, and floods.
Halmaro will pay 200 to 600 GP per person for about 6-8 weeks’ work – one quarter when the caravan sets out, another quarter when the caravan reaches Ayun on the Mashandi border, and the rest when the caravan gets to Ein Arris, the capital of Mashanda. (How much each employee is paid depends on the job and how well they impress their foremen; there is a possibility of a bonus for exceptional work when the caravan reaches Ein Arris.) Halmaro treats his employees fairly, and even encourages his hirelings to trade on their own (he’s always looking for people who might be merchant material.)
Not everyone who applies will be hired, of course, but nothing ventured, nothing gained. And you’ve worked for the Merchants’ Guild in the past when you needed a stretch of steady pay. Right now you are looking for a chance to travel and do something a little out of the ordinary. This might be that chance.
Itinerant merchants and preachers dot the market, plying their wares and their faiths to those who have come to apply for a position with the carvan. Representatives from the Merchant's Guild have established separate booths for the different positions available -- guardsmen, entertainers, teamsters and animal handlers, cooks, healers, traders and guides, translaters and scribes, and general labourers can all find someone to speak with.
A slight woman filters into the marketplace, hesitating at the noise and bustle of the crowd - and the people hanging on the crowd as well. She wrinkles her nose as a preacher extols the virtue of his faith at her, but it is only a momentary lapse in her pleasant expression and her smile is gentle and patient as she tells him, "Not today, thank you."
She scans the assembled booths and the various lines for each. She shifts the pack on her shoulder uncomfortably, pulling the end of her shawl free from under the strap of the heavy haversack. She fidgets with it and her curly blonde hair briefly, taking care that the cream-colored cloth protects her head and ears from the sun. It wouldn't be hard to imagine that such a fair-skinned individual could burn easily.
Finally, she steps forward into the line for the translators. She glances over at the booth labeled for entertainers, somewhat longingly, before turning her gaze forward and patiently awaiting her turn.
By her best guess, it takes Malinda well over an hour to reach the front of the line, where a stern human woman looks her up and down.
"Here for translation, then?" she asks, then quickly switches to Common Elven. "What languages do you speak?"
After getting her answer, she asks several more questions, waiting for a response and then changing language between each one. "What makes you think you would be a good member of the caravan? Are you familiar with the cultures or just the languages? Do you have any other skills?"
The mysterious man in well-tailored courtier clothing and a dashing hat made his way through the market. For every priest that tried to turn his ear, he had a different ecclesiastical greeting; for every merchant, a flattering word. But, at no time was actual benedictions or coin given. Everyone seemed to come away with something that they wanted, but no one got what they seeked. Such was that manner of dealing with Damien Bane.
His job was simple. Keep an eye and ear out in the caravan, to make note of what was really going on. He would need to be close for that. A translator, a guide, a tutor. All of these work work. But Damien was savvy enough to know that while he could fake things well enough, sooner or later he would be discovered for his real lack of knowledge. No, a translator it would have to be. So that was the line he queued up in.
__________________ stonegod -- LEB judge and spawn of Khyber since 2005 (Blog)
By her best guess, it takes Malinda well over an hour to reach the front of the line, where a stern human woman looks her up and down.
"Here for translation, then?" she asks, then quickly switches to Common Elven. "What languages do you speak?"
Malinda smiles pleasantly to the stern woman, answering her in Common Elven, “I am, if it pleases you. I speak Elven, both High and Common. I also speak Goblin, Draconic, Trade Pidgin, and Mashar, fluently.” Her accent and inflection is that of a native speaker.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Kafkonia
After getting her answer, she asks several more questions, waiting for a response and then changing language between each one. "What makes you think you would be a good member of the caravan?”
“I know words an’ people,” she replies in hasty Trade Pidgin, quickly shifting from the elegant Elven to the gritty tongue, a bastardization of several others she knows. “Keep ‘em nice nice. I can play an’ shoot,” she slaps her thigh where her flute is set in a soft leather case and her shoulder where her bow is slung to accent her points. “Can write pretty, see?” She reaches into her pack and produces a wooden case. Opening it, she produces a slim leather folio with examples of her Calligraphy, in a variety of script – though each in her distinctively artistic hand. It is noticeable that her longbow is scribbled with similar Calligraphy from end to end.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Kafkonia
“Are you familiar with the cultures or just the languages?”
Malinda straightens and switches to High Elven as she answers, “I am a student of the written word, a historian and an artist. Both the content and the form of language is a mirror to the culture which pens it. As such, yes, I am familiar with the culture and traditions represented by the languages I speak and write.” Once again, her accent is quite markedly Elven.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Kafkonia
“Do you have any other skills?"
She smiles, answering this question in Mashar, “If you care to test me, I can assure you I play this instrument quite well.” She produces her silver flute, which does appear to be a fine example of its kind. “Or any other wind instrument you would care to challenge me with. I have some magical ability, which I can use to repair, clean or entertain, at your Master’s discretion. I do not profess to be a warrior, but I can use this blade, if threatened.” She brushes aside her wrap with a gentle flick of her hand, showing the blade to the woman. Her dress is eye-catching, and the way the light glints almost mystically off what appears at first to be normal fabric might lend credence to her boast of magical ability.
Reverting to the Common tongue, she finishes with her own question and a pretty smile, “Have I answered to your satisfaction?”
A tiny goblin sits a few paces away, resting against the interviewer's booth. He grins constantly, his head whipping back and forth as he tries to catch a glimpse of every strange passerby and listen in on every hurried conversation. Occasionally, he waves at a merchant, or calls out a greeting, largely ignored in the hustle and roar of the crowd.
He looks up and pushes his turban away from his eyes as the fair-haired human finishes answering the interviewer's questions. "Ha! Cleverness, yes?" The goblin pulls himself up off the ground, brushes away a bit of dust, and steps carefully over. He grins lopsidely at the interviewer. "If you'd accept my opinion, ah, she is well the brightest speaker I have yet heard this day, yes?"
Pasha grins at the woman as he waddles past. "Yes, I am, ah, looking forward to travelling with you."
Midway through the line of healer candidates, a kobold in a plain cloak tries to strike up conversations with those around him to pass the time. A seemingly unremarkable act, yet one reminding every last one of them, by some uncanny coincidence, that they have forgotten something of desperate importance at the very bottom of their packs, or forgotten to triple-check their supplies, or realized that they hadn't actually intended to apply as a healer at all, when they spot the holy symbol hanging from his neck.
With those around him engaged in more pressing business, the kobold sighs and turns back to face the booth, slowly inching closer. It is always an favorable day that makes people remember things they've forgotten, but at the moment he'd be more than happy to trade a bit of that favor just to shorten the line.
Malinda lifts a slender hand to her lips as the goblin interjects on her interview. Her blue eyes seem to glitter as he compliments her speech, to match her bright smile as her hand falls away. It comes to a rest upon her breast as she curtseys gracefully to the goblin, "Such a courteous and distinctive individual as yourself, it shall be my great pleasure to travel with you," her eyes swivel to the interviewer and fall slightly in deference to her. "If I should be so favored."
"Thank you, Pasha," the interviewer says. "I value your opinion, as always." Turning back to Malinda, she hands her a silk ribbon in a vibrant red. "You'll do. You play too, then? Bring this to Nivram -- " She gives her a smaller brown ribbon and nods in the direction of the entertainer's booth. "Don't bother waiting in the line; Halmaro likes people who can fill more than one position."
----
As Damien waits in line, a remarkably unattractive man strikes up a conversation with him. One eye seems slightly larger than the other, and when he speaks Damien can see that the few teeth he has don't fit neatly together.
"Quite a line-up, eh?" he says. "They coulda picked a cooler day to do it on too. Haw haw." His laugh resembles the noise a horse might make if it wanted to annoy its brethren.
----
From where he stands, Kibek hears a commotion from the front of the line -- the sounds of a scuffle, and raised voices.
"What'd you say about my god!?" A large man is shouting, and although Kibek can't quite see who it is that he's shouting at, it's quite obvious to the diminutive cleric that the fellow is quite intoxicated, and may explode at any moment. (Sense Motive 19+2=21)
"Thank you, Pasha," the interviewer says. "I value your opinion, as always." Turning back to Malinda, she hands her a silk ribbon in a vibrant red. "You'll do. You play too, then? Bring this to Nivram -- " She gives her a smaller brown ribbon and nods in the direction of the entertainer's booth. "Don't bother waiting in the line; Halmaro likes people who can fill more than one position."
Malinda accepts both ribbons, “How lovely! Thank you for your time, and the consideration.” She steps aside from the front of the booth to allow the woman to continue her work. She ties the red silk ribbon to the front of her wrap where it is clasped below her neck. The smaller brown ribbon she wraps between the fingers of her left hand.
Spinning around she turns to Pasha, “What do you think, does it suit me?” She arches her chin out and seems to be indicating the red ribbon.
Curious about the cause of the outburst, Kibek tries to see through the press of the crowd to the source, hindered as much by those trying to do the same as by his size.
Craning his neck, Kibek can see that the drunkard is shouting at a very slender elf. The elf seems unfazed by the explosion, and if he speaks, he speaks so quietly that his lips don't seem to move.
"What!?" the giant explodes. He makes as if to reach for the weapon at his side, but before his hand can reach it he collapses to the ground, snoring. A few people laugh nervously, and others suddenly find their surroundings much more interesting as three city guards arrive on the scene. Two of the guards escort the unconscious figure roughly from the market, while the third converses briefly with the elf before departing.
The elf glances over the line, and his eyes seem to linger on Kibek longer than on anybody else. Then, without a word, he turns sharply on his heal and walks past the booths, disappearing into the caravan proper.
Kibek
You're pretty certain that the elf cast sleep, although without the usual gestures and incantations that requires. (Spellcraft roll 13+3 = 16)
As Damien waits in line, a remarkably unattractive man strikes up a conversation with him. One eye seems slightly larger than the other, and when he speaks Damien can see that the few teeth he has don't fit neatly together.
"Quite a line-up, eh?" he says. "They coulda picked a cooler day to do it on too. Haw haw." His laugh resembles the noise a horse might make if it wanted to annoy its brethren.
Damien arches his eyebrow at the ugly man, but breaks out in a disarming smile. "This is but the edge of the heat, my friend. The fiends themselves heat the outer desert, or so they say! Fire storms hundreds of feet high! But we will find shade, that we will." He keeps an eye on the motion of the line, ignoring the---to him---inconsequential heat.
__________________ stonegod -- LEB judge and spawn of Khyber since 2005 (Blog)
Damien arches his eyebrow at the ugly man, but breaks out in a disarming smile. "This is but the edge of the heat, my friend. The fiends themselves heat the outer desert, or so they say! Fire storms hundreds of feet high! But we will find shade, that we will." He keeps an eye on the motion of the line, ignoring the---to him---inconsequential heat.
The ugly man's eyes widen. "A hundred feet high you say!" Then he laughs heartily, maybe a bit too heartily, slapping Damien on the shoulder. "I like your way with words, sir, that I do! Fiends indeed. Haw haw."
The line slowly moves forward, and Damien becomes aware of a commotion over by the healer's booth, as a large man seems on the verge of striking a much smaller elf before he suddenly collapses.
Kibek watches two of the guards disappear with the drunkard. When he turns back, the third guard and the elf are gone, as if nothing ever happened. Indeed, he couldn't say he would be very surprised if he actually did imagine the whole thing; this heat and the excitement of the caravan certainly could make a man delirious. But then, he wouldn't be much of a healer if he couldn't even keep his own wits, would he? Shaking his head to clear it, he turns back to the line.
"Thank you, Pasha," the interviewer says. "I value your opinion, as always."
Pasha blushes and looks down. "Ah, I am but a humble servant of Halmaro, friend. All I say, I say in his service, yes?"
Quote:
Originally Posted by PhoenixAsh
Spinning around she turns to Pasha, “What do you think, does it suit me?” She arches her chin out and seems to be indicating the red ribbon.
Pasha looks up, squints, and grins. "Ah, ah...yes!" He cocks his head to the side and a strand of his turban dangles across his eyes. He brushes it away with a casual gesture, still grinning. "Bright and red against pale, like, ah, rose in the desert, yes? This reminds me of something..."
Pasha fumbles in his pack for a moment, producing a small glass vial with an exclamation of triumph. "Ah!" The liquid in the slender vial is the same bright red as the silk ribbon. Pasha steps forward, pressing the vial into Malinda's hands. "For you, friend! I have much hope in my heart that you will, ah, never need use it! Ha, yes?"
Pasha looks up as two guards pass by dragging an unconcious man between them. "Ah! It seems the desire to be part of Halmaro's caravan is overwhelming to some, yes?"
Spoiler:
Pasha has given Malinda one of his cure light wounds potions. I've marked it off his character sheet.
Malinda hesitates as the vial is pressed into her hand, disarmed by Pasha’s casual kindness. Finally she clasps the vial in her fingers and bends slightly, her blue eyes glistening. It would seem they threaten to shed tears. “Pray, dear friend, gift me also with your name, that when I speak of generosity, of magnanimous spirit, I may give you your proper due. For such kindness is rarer than any desert rose, and more precious. I, Malinda Osten, shall never forget it.” She bows her head, hiding away her eyes for a moment.
She lifts it to see the two guardsmen Pasha indicates, and the man between them. “Oh… so it would seem, how unfortunate for him.” Her fingers reflexively rub the brown ribbon laced between them, and she seems to notice her possession of it suddenly once again. “Tell me, are you a lover of music? It would please me if you heard me play, but only if it would be something you would enjoy and your time is not occupied by more pressing matters.”
OOC
Spoiler:
Noted on my character sheet, one Cure Light Wounds potion.
Malinda hesitates as the vial is pressed into her hand, disarmed by Pasha’s casual kindness. Finally she clasps the vial in her fingers and bends slightly, her blue eyes glistening. It would seem they threaten to shed tears. “Pray, dear friend, gift me also with your name, that when I speak of generosity, of magnanimous spirit, I may give you your proper due. For such kindness is rarer than any desert rose, and more precious. I, Malinda Osten, shall never forget it.” She bows her head, hiding away her eyes for a moment.
The tiny goblin pauses for a moment, considering the bard's words. He then grins even wider than before, nodding in satisfaction. "Ah, such kindness is but the responsibility of friends, yes? And as I am D'n Pashabek, lonely merchant of the deep desert, the joy of friendship is like, ah, cool fresh water to me!" He throws out his tiny arms, indicating the vast crowd assembled around them. "How excited am I to be travelling with such a greatness! Yes? For in the desert, often my only friends are lizard, rock, and goblin, all of which have about the same brains, yes?" Pasha winks slyly.
It's true that most goblins tend to have glassy eyes and slack jaws; by no means a charismatic bunch, and certainly not exciting conversationalists. Even Pasha himself is only slightly above average in terms of having an engaging personality--but compared to most goblins, he seems an incredible genius.
Quote:
Originally Posted by PhoenixAsh
She lifts it to see the two guardsmen Pasha indicates, and the man between them. “Oh… so it would seem, how unfortunate for him.” Her fingers reflexively rub the brown ribbon laced between them, and she seems to notice her possession of it suddenly once again. “Tell me, are you a lover of music? It would please me if you heard me play, but only if it would be something you would enjoy and your time is not occupied by more pressing matters.”
"Ah, such an excellent prospect! But let us walk together," Pasha points toward the entertainer's booth and then at the brown ribbon on Malinda's hand, "and there I will hear music from you, as you play for them. Audience of one is not fitting for such a fine performer, yes?"
Pasha waddles through the crowd, taking quick steps, nodding and waving at everyone he passes. He seems innocently unaware of the fact that almost everyone ignores him, considering a mere goblin, even one dressed like a clown, to be beneath their notice.
Passing by the line in front of the healer's booth, Pasha holds up a hand and looks up at Malinda. "Just a moment, if you please, friend. I would, ah, ask a question." He considers the long line for a moment before stepping up to a cloaked kobold near the back. "Many pardons, son of dragons, but I am curious as to the, ah, disturbance that just took place, yes? Did you perhaps see what happened to the large man they took away?"
The tiny goblin pauses for a moment, considering the bard's words. He then grins even wider than before, nodding in satisfaction. "Ah, such kindness is but the responsibility of friends, yes? And as I am D'n Pashabek, lonely merchant of the deep desert, the joy of friendship is like, ah, cool fresh water to me!" He throws out his tiny arms, indicating the vast crowd assembled around them. "How excited am I to be travelling with such a greatness! Yes? For in the desert, often my only friends are lizard, rock, and goblin, all of which have about the same brains, yes?" Pasha winks slyly.
Malinda laughs softly, "D'n Pashabek. A goblin well above rocks and lizards, if I may say so." She carefully slides the red vial into a pouch at her belt before continuing.
Quote:
Originally Posted by nonamazing
"Ah, such an excellent prospect! But let us walk together," Pasha points toward the entertainer's booth and then at the brown ribbon on Malinda's hand, "and there I will hear music from you, as you play for them. Audience of one is not fitting for such a fine performer, yes?"
Pasha waddles through the crowd, taking quick steps, nodding and waving at everyone he passes. He seems innocently unaware of the fact that almost everyone ignores him, considering a mere goblin, even one dressed like a clown, to be beneath their notice.
"You know my mind, it would seem." She walks with Pasha, seeming to note the goblin's friendly mannerisms, though her expression remains fixed behind a small, perhaps secret, smile.
Quote:
Originally Posted by nonamazing
Passing by the line in front of the healer's booth, Pasha holds up a hand and looks up at Malinda. "Just a moment, if you please, friend. I would, ah, ask a question." He considers the long line for a moment before stepping up to a cloaked kobold near the back. "Many pardons, son of dragons, but I am curious as to the, ah, disturbance that just took place, yes? Did you perhaps see what happened to the large man they took away?"
Malinda tips her head gently, acquiescing to Pasha's request to hold. She observes his actions and unobtrusively steps a little closer to hear the response from the kobold.
"Many pardons, son of dragons, but I am curious as to the, ah, disturbance that just took place, yes? Did you perhaps see what happened to the large man they took away?"
Kibek turns toward the voice. Seeing a goblin standing there he smiles, glad to finally talk to someone at his own eye level and only noting the elf beside him in passing.
"It really wasn't much to see. Or at least I didn't see much; but you can sympathize with that," he says to the goblin, glancing up at his tall companion. "From what I did see and hear, I can tell you that he seems to like drinking, and dislike those who attack his faith. But then, I can sympathize with that," he gestures at the holy symbol around his neck with a grin. "Tell me, are you in a hurry? This line seems like it hasn't moved all day, and I'm so bored I could die. I'd enjoy it if you and your friend could stay a while and talk."
Linear Mode
And yet another word from our sponsors
