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D&D 5E Al-Qadim Moving Through the Flame
- Thread starter Quickleaf
- Start date
VLAD the Destroyer
Adventurer
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"You must have had a hard time of it," murmurs Amina, when the others have gone to see to the injured man. "With a monster waiting in the oasis, and your servant's water taken from him. How long has it been now since you've had fresh water to drink?"
Her eyes remain humbly downcast as she speaks, but she is listening intently for any sign of waver or hesitation in her answer...
Insight [roll0]
(OOC - lol, I keep thinking Amina is trained in Insight...sigh
)
Her eyes remain humbly downcast as she speaks, but she is listening intently for any sign of waver or hesitation in her answer...
Insight [roll0]
(OOC - lol, I keep thinking Amina is trained in Insight...sigh
)
Quickleaf
Legend
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VLAD the Destroyer
Adventurer
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Quickleaf
Legend
[SECTION]
Either Hadia's cup overflows with courteous compassion, or she is well practiced at not betraying the usual tells associated with liars and thieves. "Thankfully, we were blessed by Jisan of the Floods with ample rains last year. Even so, our cistern was running dangerously low. The rationing was not as hard as the anxiety, wondering whether I would have enough water for my sons and servants. Excuse me, I shall return shortly. This way..." She smiles softly, leading Lal Qalandar and Akilah down a passageway until their footsteps can't be heard any more.[/SECTION]
[SECTION]"Malsoor is a veteran of fighting between the Pearl Cities and the Children of the Bull. It must have been thirty years ago," explains Hadia as she leads you through the sandstone cut halls. Her voice is soft, as if there are others at the caravanserai – or what's left of it – whom she does not wish to wake. Thirty years ago would have been around the same time as the civil war in Tajar, City of Trade. "He is...a private man...a man of few words...I..." furrowing her brow, Hadia sighs being at a loss for words. "Please don't distress him. He needs to heal from his wounds. Here we are..."
Arriving at a closed linen curtain woven with golden embroidery, Hadia pauses and bows her head listening. Faint rumbling coughing comes from within the room. "Waterbearer? The desert brings you two visitors. They are skilled in the practice of medicine..." Waiting a moment longer, she hesitantly brings her hand to the diaphanous white curtain, beginning to draw it aside.[/SECTION]
[SECTION]Thereupon, a raspy voice comes from within the room, which is lit by oil lamps kept at a dim flame to preserve fuel. "More physicians? I have had my fill of traitors." There is an unnervingly smooth quality to the voice despite the gravely rumble in its throat. Squinting your eyes, you're able to make out the faint outline of a figure some 40 feet into the room propped up on a bed.
"You've not come bearing water blessed by holy men, nor sacramental oils, or powdered saint's bones? I will not suffer such foolish things in my presence." After a moment, it is evident that the aged voice speaks to the two of you. "Neither will I tolerate needles, instruments designed to pierce the flesh, nor magic blades blazing with the light of the sun." There seems to be a wry twist of humor to the raspy voice, but as soon as it is detectable it fades. "If you do not bear any such things, then you have nothing to fear from me...ack...ack...ack..."[/SECTION]
Either Hadia's cup overflows with courteous compassion, or she is well practiced at not betraying the usual tells associated with liars and thieves. "Thankfully, we were blessed by Jisan of the Floods with ample rains last year. Even so, our cistern was running dangerously low. The rationing was not as hard as the anxiety, wondering whether I would have enough water for my sons and servants. Excuse me, I shall return shortly. This way..." She smiles softly, leading Lal Qalandar and Akilah down a passageway until their footsteps can't be heard any more.[/SECTION]* * *
[SECTION]
"Malsoor is a veteran of fighting between the Pearl Cities and the Children of the Bull. It must have been thirty years ago," explains Hadia as she leads you through the sandstone cut halls. Her voice is soft, as if there are others at the caravanserai – or what's left of it – whom she does not wish to wake. Thirty years ago would have been around the same time as the civil war in Tajar, City of Trade. "He is...a private man...a man of few words...I..." furrowing her brow, Hadia sighs being at a loss for words. "Please don't distress him. He needs to heal from his wounds. Here we are..."Arriving at a closed linen curtain woven with golden embroidery, Hadia pauses and bows her head listening. Faint rumbling coughing comes from within the room. "Waterbearer? The desert brings you two visitors. They are skilled in the practice of medicine..." Waiting a moment longer, she hesitantly brings her hand to the diaphanous white curtain, beginning to draw it aside.[/SECTION]
[SECTION]Thereupon, a raspy voice comes from within the room, which is lit by oil lamps kept at a dim flame to preserve fuel. "More physicians? I have had my fill of traitors." There is an unnervingly smooth quality to the voice despite the gravely rumble in its throat. Squinting your eyes, you're able to make out the faint outline of a figure some 40 feet into the room propped up on a bed.
"You've not come bearing water blessed by holy men, nor sacramental oils, or powdered saint's bones? I will not suffer such foolish things in my presence." After a moment, it is evident that the aged voice speaks to the two of you. "Neither will I tolerate needles, instruments designed to pierce the flesh, nor magic blades blazing with the light of the sun." There seems to be a wry twist of humor to the raspy voice, but as soon as it is detectable it fades. "If you do not bear any such things, then you have nothing to fear from me...ack...ack...ack..."[/SECTION]
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Last edited:
Thateous
Explorer
"I bear no such remedies or concoctions nor prickly things with faint hues and strange aromas. As long as you can tolerate the soft touch of the daughter of a sheikh then you shall find whatever ails you removed and your health rejuvenated. Only if that is what you truly want. I will not beg you to allow me to heal your wounds."
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Quickleaf
Legend
[SECTION]"A sheikh's daughter...noble blood? Let them in, Hadia," comes the voice from the dimly lit room. Nodding with silent respect, the caravanserai mistress pulls the curtain all the way open, motioning for Akilah and Lal to enter. She follows a few steps behind you.[/SECTION]
[SECTION]
Cots and blankets line the walls of the room, and the strong smell of various herbs and resins assails your nostrils including frankincense, myrrh, cassia, and laurel. Some of the cots bear blood stains, but all are empty save one. Malsoor the Water-bearer reclines on a bed near the end of the 40' long room, a text in one hand that he'd been reading before you entered. He appears to be a half-elf of middle age, though his skin is unusually pale with a hint of ghoulish blue. About his neck is a dark indigo scarf, wrapped in such a way as to stem the flow of blood from a wound.
"Ah, that's better. You are holy people, are you not?" he inquires in a softer raspy voice, taking stock of your robes. "Are you on a pilgrimage? To the Desert Mosque in the north perhaps? Come closer..." Sniffing the air, Malsoor furrows his brows. "I am not the only one who is wounded, it would seem..."[/SECTION]
[SECTION]
Cots and blankets line the walls of the room, and the strong smell of various herbs and resins assails your nostrils including frankincense, myrrh, cassia, and laurel. Some of the cots bear blood stains, but all are empty save one. Malsoor the Water-bearer reclines on a bed near the end of the 40' long room, a text in one hand that he'd been reading before you entered. He appears to be a half-elf of middle age, though his skin is unusually pale with a hint of ghoulish blue. About his neck is a dark indigo scarf, wrapped in such a way as to stem the flow of blood from a wound."Ah, that's better. You are holy people, are you not?" he inquires in a softer raspy voice, taking stock of your robes. "Are you on a pilgrimage? To the Desert Mosque in the north perhaps? Come closer..." Sniffing the air, Malsoor furrows his brows. "I am not the only one who is wounded, it would seem..."[/SECTION]
