A Caravan to Ein Arris

Cast of Characters
Malinda Osten, Elven Bard
D'n Pashabek, Goblin Artificer
Kibek Danar, Kobold Cleric
Damien Bane, Tiefling Beguiler
Alahomorin Demetrius Zylon, Half-Elf Paragon/Bard
Rogues Gallery
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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.

Kafkonia said:

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?"

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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.

Kafkonia said:

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?”

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“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.

Kafkonia said:

“Are you familiar with the cultures or just the languages?”

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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.

Kafkonia said:

“Do you have any other skills?"

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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)

Kafkonia said:

"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."

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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.