Lost Tomb of the Sphinx Queen - IC Thread

Malvoisin

First Post
PROPHET'S LEAP

The settlement called Prophet's Leap seems little more than a temporary arrangement of merchant's tents, traveller's bedrolls and a few dusty shacks, but it has been in existence for several centuries. Some of these tents have been pitched here for decades, serving the needs of those who seek counsel from Khubsheth the Prophet and those who merely seek to explore the mysterious Barren Hills that lie between the mountains and the Great Desert. Other tents serve the needs of the bandit tribes who occasionally emerge from the hills to sell their brutally acquired wares.

Though there is no accepted authority here, no mayor or council of elders, all who dwell here pay heed to the rare pronouncement of the Sphinx Prophet, and most pay at least lip service to the advice of the lesser prophets who periodically wander out of the Barren Hills. Most matters in the town are handled by those who are personally involved, through negotiation, violence, or bribery. The occasional affair affecting several people or the town as a whole is usually taken to the nearest available prophet for adjudication, though interpretation of the prophet's words can become a problem all its own. The bandits who rove the Barren Hills regard Prophet's Leap as neutral ground and consequently deal harshly with any outside force that attempts to assert control over the settlement.

The town's name comes from the rock found in the center of Prophet's Leap. What appears to be an ordinary boulder protruding from the dry ground, the Stepstone has two human footprints imprinted at the top, as though someone had softened the stone and then leapt from the top. The residents of the town claim that centuries ago, a wise man and his followers came to speak with Khubsheth. After several days of consultation, the wise man was seized with the gift of prophecy and became the first of the Barren Hills prophets. The wise man spent may days prophesying from atop this stone, before leaping from it directly into the heavens. As the wandering crowd stared upward, a passing merchant, noticing the throng of potential customers, quickly set up his tent and began selling things to them. This was the beginning of Prophet's Leap.

The population of Prophet's Leap rarely grows beyond 100, unless several caravans stop here at the same time. Most of the time there are only 20 or so people here: a few pilgrims waiting to see Khubsheth, a traveler or two stocking up before venturing into the hills, the occasional mystic or scholar engrossed in studying the borders of the Barren Hills, and the regular inhabitants. Among those are:

Arsev ben Traiga: One of the oldest inhabitants of Prophet's Leap, Arsev is also the wealthiest. You wouldn't know it to look at his ragged tent or shabby attire, however. This wizened half-elf has been cheerfully buying and selling things to and from travelers and bandits for more than a century and can acquire nearly anything a customer could want, given a few weeks. The battered table outside his tent is filled with a mixture of useful items and antique bric-a-brac and is nearly always surrounded by customers bargaining fiercely with the old man or one of his innumerable great-grandchildren.

The Speaker to Dust: With his wildly unkempt hair and beard and his flea-ridden robe, The Speaker to Dust looks the very model of a mad prophet - well, an extemely angry one, anyway. The Speaker regards Prophet's Leap as his personal domain and complains loudly and continuously about the moral decay and corruption displayed by the local merchants who defile the sacred Stepstone with their lust for wealth. He can most often be found near the stone, haranguing passersby and prophesying doom, both general and specific.

Knag'rr the Finder: Knag'rr was once the pride of her tribe, a tracker and warrior of great renown among the gnoll tribes that haunt the Barren Hills. Three years ago, her tribe vanished without a trace while she was out on a scouting mission. After scouring the Barren Hills desperately for almost two years, she took her problem to Khubsheth, who told her that she would find her lost kin while guiding a traveler through the Hills. As a result, she has gained a reputation as a reliable and inexpensive guide for small groups venturing into the wastes.

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OOC: Players, please go ahead and introduce your characters to the settlement as you see fit. Be sure to give your character's motivation for traveling to this remote place. A likely reason would be that he/she seeks the counsel of Khubsheth the Sphinx Prophet, but other reasons could also be valid. Jump in and have fun! :)
 

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Shayuri

First Post
It was midday when Kuma first came to Prophet's Leap, and the heat was oppressive. He came clad in his segmented silver-white breastplate that shone like a mirror in the unforgiving sun; a man of height and build such that one might fancy his footsteps could be heard in advance of him actually being seen. Save for epaulets and gauntlets, his arms were bare...yet crusted over with some kind of odd, rust-colored horn-like plates. The coloring made some think of a particularly bad sumburn, yet it was obvious he moved without pain. Under the simple steel cap he wore, his face was stern, angular, with pronounced jawline and cheekbones, and square jaw. More of those ruddy...scale-like encrustations ran along both jawline and cheekbone, further defining them. Where his eyebrows should have been was only a bony, reddish ridge that swept around his head; giving way to small, blunt horns over his temples, these partially obscured by the leather flaps coming down from the sides of his cap. Over his shoulder projected the hilt of a massive sword. His cloak was broad and long, and seemed oddly...doubled. One cloak made of flowing cloth, with another "layer" on top stylized to resemble great batlike wings folded.

He speaks to no one as he comes into the village, his gaze roving alertly enough that it did not linger on any one person for long. Despite the heat, his skin is dry where it shows. He clomps to the center of the town, leaving a wake of people who...momentarily at least...-pause to watch him warily as he passes. He ignores them in turn, focusing instead on the stone of Prophet's Leap. At its base are a few dried, curled flowers...bygone echoes of former offerings. Kuma takes the waterskin at his side and makes an offering of his own. Water; precious in the burning desert. He then turns his back on the Stone and looks out at the other denizens of Prophet's Leap as he takes a drink for himself...really assessing them for the first time as more than mere potential foes. The shopkeepers, the guards, the vagabonds and the fortune seekers. Standing at least a head taller than anyone near him, Kuma made an obvious and imposing figure...easily seen by anyone who might take an interest.
 

Pinotage

Explorer
It wasn't like he wasn't used to the heat. Even little Charizane could have ran miles in heat like this - her indomitable spirit was a tribute to the Planak halflings of the plains and steps. He'd spent much time in heat like this. It was the sand that grated his nerves - it got everywhere, particularly in his beard and given his penchant for skipping to occasional bath or forty, it was going to annoy him more. He sighed to himself as he arrived on the outskirts, and scratched some loose sand out of his beard. "It is to be a long day and a long journey," he said to himself in a strong voice.

Shifting his overlarge overtunic into place, the dwarf Aethor stalked into the small place that was known as Prophet's Leap. He walked with purpose, only shielding his face from the sun and sand. Tied around his head was makeshift protection from the sun - a spare outfit of clothing used for an altogether unfit purpose. Nevertheless, he gave a spirited entry into the small hamlet, smiling at those he passed, occasionally muttering a 'I hope you be well'. He stopped for a moment outside what appeared to be a poor merchant's tent, glancing only once at the imposing sunburnt figure standing near the stone in the center. "Now there be trouble if I ever be seeing it." He shrugged to himself as his curious nature drew him closer to the store.

"I don't be supposing you be having something to be keeping the sand off me," he started with a grin. "Magic will do, as I can't think anything else be more suited to the task." His eyes idly drifted over the wares but he didn't touch anything. Turning his attention again to the man, creature, standing near the stone, he stared for a while. Beneath his tunic the tips of two blades could be seen, but otherwise he travelled only with a rugged looking pack to his back. That is to say, that was all that could be seen beneath the light, brown, traveller's clothing he wore. The overlarge overtunic covered most of his body almost like a dress would. "It is to be good that I am here. I am sure the prophet can tell me more about a curiosity I have." Turning back to the merchant, he said, "What you be saying? You be having something for me?"
 

Malvoisin

First Post
Shayuri said:
He speaks to no one as he comes into the village, his gaze roving alertly enough that it did not linger on any one person for long. Despite the heat, his skin is dry where it shows. He clomps to the center of the town, leaving a wake of people who...momentarily at least...-pause to watch him warily as he passes. He ignores them in turn, focusing instead on the stone of Prophet's Leap. At its base are a few dried, curled flowers...bygone echoes of former offerings. Kuma takes the waterskin at his side and makes an offering of his own. Water; precious in the burning desert. He then turns his back on the Stone and looks out at the other denizens of Prophet's Leap as he takes a drink for himself...really assessing them for the first time as more than mere potential foes. The shopkeepers, the guards, the vagabonds and the fortune seekers. Standing at least a head taller than anyone near him, Kuma made an obvious and imposing figure...easily seen by anyone who might take an interest.

"Trespasser!" A wild voice cries out as Kuma pours out his offering at the base of the Stepstone. He looks over to see a man with wild hair and wilder eyes, pointing a crooked figure in his direction. "You pour out your precious water on these sands, but I see you for who you are! A creature of fire and blood, not water! It will be blood that you pour out on these lands, not water! I have seen it to be so!" The crazed prophet walks right up to the massive warrior, seemingly unfazed by his size. "You have come here why? To taunt the power of the stone with your false offering?"
 

Malvoisin

First Post
Pinotage said:
"I don't be supposing you be having something to be keeping the sand off me," he started with a grin. "Magic will do, as I can't think anything else be more suited to the task." His eyes idly drifted over the wares but he didn't touch anything. Turning his attention again to the man, creature, standing near the stone, he stared for a while. Beneath his tunic the tips of two blades could be seen, but otherwise he travelled only with a rugged looking pack to his back. That is to say, that was all that could be seen beneath the light, brown, traveller's clothing he wore. The overlarge overtunic covered most of his body almost like a dress would. "It is to be good that I am here. I am sure the prophet can tell me more about a curiosity I have." Turning back to the merchant, he said, "What you be saying? You be having something for me?"

With a glint in his eyes the wizened half-elf merchant nods his head repeatedly as he speaks. "Yes, yes, my friend, for you only, I have just the thing. Only 25 gold coins, for you only." He holds out what looks like an ordinary whiskbroom. "Keeps sand off you, and flies as well. Only 25 gold coins, for you only." The merchant smiles, showing off his nearly toothless mouth.
 

Shayuri

First Post
Kuma grins, and his teeth are fangs.

"You see true, prophet," he rumbles, his voice a volcanic bass. "I am a warrior. Blood stains my hands, my blade, and my footsteps. But I have not come to this place to war, or to shed blood. I offer my water to show that I respect the peace of this place, and would not see it broken."

"I am here to seek the wisdom of the Oracle of the Sands. Long have I followed rumor and tale, through plain and forest and desert, over river and lake...and now I am here. I believe it is my wyrd that I stand here now, with my old life withering behind me like a snake's skin cast off...and a new quest looming ahead that I cannot quite see."

"The Sphinx Prophet will help me. This I believe."

He peers at the old man quizzically. "And what of you, friend? You have been here long...I can see it. But why? Have you not found the answers you came for?"
 

Gli'jar

First Post
The caravan slowed upon the approach to the desert oasis called Prophet’s Leap. Fifty-seven camels, supplies, and their attendants riding through the sands, enigmatic forms in billowing cloaks, protective face shrouds, and bolts of linen blowing in the desert winds. Arrival rituals began with thanks, prayers and supplications to various gods, for safe passage through the desert. A lone figure whose camel was lead through the throng of travelers, returned offerings of blessing as he dismounted and made his way into Prophet’s Leap. “In my right hand I bear the lotus of Isis and in my left the scarab of Ra. The Ankh of Thoth and the eyes of Horus watch over and protect you. May Anubis judge you worthy for entrance to Aaru where you will join Osiris in paradise. May Ra’s mercy shine down and protect us all from the evils of the serpent of chaos.”

His form still shrouded by the billowing linens that swirl about his form in the dry desert wind, he makes his way into Prophet’s leap. Once in, he removes his face shroud, letting the bolts of fabric run down the length of his simple linen cloak. He walks with a presence that causes those around to turn a look. His freshly shorn face reveals ritual tattooing and prayers. He then seems to summon from a fold in the fabric a large sun-disk which he then dons marking him as a holy man of Ra and makes his way towards the stone.

As he approaches the stone Isfendiyar sees a large figure making some form of offering which is then interrupted by the ravings of the Speaker of Dust. He continues to approach, offering a question to the Speaker, nodding to the large figure and offering a bow of respect to the Speaker, “Master Speaker, are we not taught that as tipling mortals, it is not for us to question intent, that is Anubis’s providence in the Hall of Judgement? His heart will be judged against Maat and he will either join Osiris or face the Eater of Souls."

Shayuri said:
He peers at the old man quizzically. "And what of you, friend? You have been here long...I can see it. But why? Have you not found the answers you came for?"

"And you sir” motioning to Kuma, "Do not belittle this old Master. Were you not taught to lower your arms and bow your back to one having authority and superiority to you? If you disagree with him, he will not side with you so you should make little of the evil speaking by not opposing him in his argument. He will be dubbed a fool when your self-control has matched his ramblings."

OOC Diplomacy +8
 
Last edited:

Pinotage

Explorer
Malvoisin said:
With a glint in his eyes the wizened half-elf merchant nods his head repeatedly as he speaks. "Yes, yes, my friend, for you only, I have just the thing. Only 25 gold coins, for you only." He holds out what looks like an ordinary whiskbroom. "Keeps sand off you, and flies as well. Only 25 gold coins, for you only." The merchant smiles, showing off his nearly toothless mouth.

"You be thinking I believe this can fly?" he asked quizically. "I be thinking that I can live with the sand before I be making a fool of myself." He looked around, scratching his beard. The conversation had started to heat up behind him with the arrival of a newcomer. Shany of May and Borgin of Humgrot had fought like he'd never seen anybody fight before. And the matter of the Ankh of Sharein was something that he would not likely to forget either. It was a long time ago, though, and he did not have the patience for such arguments any longer.

"Bah!" he muttered as he turned back to the half-elf, "I be thinking that I be finding something else to suit me. Perhaps at some later time." This time he strode off towards the stone in the centre of Prophet's Leap, coming to a halt and giving the stone a good stare. "I be thinking it be strange that people be talking all sorts of things about a mere stone. But the beliefs of people are to be respected. Or so I be thinking." He shrugged his dwarven shoulders, not giving any sign that he was talking to anybody. Only after a few seconds he addressed the prophet. "Do you be knowing when we can approach the Prophet?" he asked.
 

Shayuri

First Post
Kuma looks around at the newcomer who berates him and his smile fades. To his credit, he hears the priest out before replying in his slow, measured, rumbling voice.

"He asked me why I came, and I told him. In the spirit of conversation, I asked him why he stayed. I don't see the offense there, priest...and it seems to me that if there -was- offense taken, it's for him to point out. Or would you insult him by acting as if he could not?"

Kuma then looks back at the prophet, only to find another has come to speak with him. He growls to himself in irritation, but at least the question being asked is one he wants to hear the answer too...
 

Rayex

First Post
Royce

Sitting in the shadow of a lean-to is a lithe elf clad in reds and oranges. He smiles to himself, listening to the petty bickering of these lesser people. His legs slowly untangled, and he rose from the sand and brushed himself idly, before approaching the tall stranger, the bearded dwarf and the priest trying to make peace.

His smile was wide, a brilliant display of teeth. Looking at the elf usually made people think of fire. This was the effect he wanted, of course. His face showed that he was a dweller of the desert, he was at home on the dunes. He bore crown of fire, and a red-brown leather tunic stylized with flames licking his torso. On his back a bright orange cloak billowed in the slight breeze as he approached.

"What do we have here? A man of draconic heritage, a priest of Ra and a dwarven seemingly poor traveler. A sight indeed for weary eyes." His eyes briefly passed the rambling man, dismissing him before eyeing the priest. "Negotiating with this one is nigh impossible. Believe me, I have tried and tried again. And this brute of a dragon-touched seems no better, to be honest."

Clasping his hands, and smiling, perhaps a shade too brightly, he eyes them all in turn and exlaimed. "Now, I invite you all to join me in the shadow for some dates and honeyd milk of the camel."
 

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