The Sands of Solaris - Chapter One

[Phoenix]

Squinting in the light of Solaris, Whoreson the camel watched the four people mumble and chitter amongst themselves for a time. The one that had taken possession of it seemed different today, a little more focused than usual. Spitting and biting at people randomly helped Whoreson tolerate this submission he could not truely understand, for the mind of a camel (especially this one) is a very basic one. Eventually his owner tugged at his reins, leading him from the oasis into the dry grasslands once more, and though he put up a token resistance and moaned loudly, did not really complain.

Located south of the Ulah Oasis, the city of Alspinar (the Caliph's city) is the largest in the kingdom, sporting over 15,000 residents. Heading towards the city to supply for the trip, you have a chance to introduce each other and swap stories and tales of old as you await the chance to begin this holy quest with the journey to the Irridan Towers. For hours you chat and tell tales of old, swapping truths, semi-truths, lies and folklore with one another, the stories growing with each pass...

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[Phoenix]

The spires of the Caliph's mighty city are worn with age and the winds of the great plains that surround it. With Solaris at your back you slowly move through the gates of the city past the smiling guards and citizens that have eagerly awaited your arrival.

Directly though the gate you notice that dozens of merchants have set up their wares in the streets, though far from the 'official' marketplace. Hawking everything from scimitars, wineskins, spices and blankets for your travels. All eyes are upon you as you move through the streets and stalls, the lucky merchant that receives your custom will be blessed indeed by your favour.

 

[Thomas Hobbes]

Tarim looks at the wide assortment of wares and laughs. Lots of marks in a place like this, if I have a mind to. A pity my shiny new choosen one status won't stop them from chopping my hands off. "Perhaps we should first find a place to stay the night," he says aloud. "I must admit I have little coin, although I have few doubts that with such an assemblance of talents as ours, we'd have our choice of ways to make some." Like cutting purses, for example. Tarim grins at the private thought. If I cut their purse, does that bless them too?

 

[John E Smoke]

"I am fairly short on coin as well. I should like an opportunity to enjoy a real meal before we leave, myself. I'm quite curious what human cuisine is like."

Khalas gives the many stalls cursory glances, though he lingers on some of the stands selling produce, particular the ones selling foods that never made it as far into Darkness as his order...

 

[Argent Silvermage]

"Ah never let it be said that this son of a Caravan merchant didn't know his way around a market. I can smell the food stalls over there" Djamir points to the left "And I'll guess that the hostels are that way as well. I have some coin left. Let us be on our way."

 

[Phoenix]

Mingling through the markets for a short time, you eventually come to the conclusion that a place to rest and something to eat is the wisest of beginnings for any quest for fighting the good fight on an empty stomach is sure to lead to ruin.

Leading your camels stubbornly along the dusty roads of Alspinar, Djamir expertly leads you to perhaps not the most respectable looking tavern in town, but definately the one with the most appealling scents eminating from its kitchens.

'The Lady's Wait' is a single story sandstone building with wide open windows and a second floor for traveler's accomidation. Approaching the popular tavern you notice that there is barely any room for more patronage, as many loiter outside peering in through the windows. At your approach a commoner slaps his companion, and soon the dozen or so people crowding the front door move back smiling at you, allowing you access.

Before you can enter the establishment there is a cry from within and a dusty man half-runs, half-falls out into the street. Dressed in old leathers with a long curved knife on his belt, you recognize him as one of the strangers from the Ulah Oasis this morning. He is quickly followed by others from the inn, though they seem like simple patrons of the tavern.

"NO!" the man shouts, scrabbling through the dirt. "I refuse to do this...suicidal quest! Every year they send innocent people out into the darklands, into the deserts, into the lairs of foul beasts, I shall not be one of them! They never return, they all die!"

He looks about, his eyes falling upon your group in recognition and pointing towards you.

"Did you not know? There is a reason why they send people out every year on the Holy Day of Huzrida. If you have not completed the quest by then, you die! We have all been cursed, cursed I tell you!"

The crowd begins to look angry, and the sight of several knives being drawn does not look promising for the man. After all, there is nothing to say that the prophets cannot be killed by their own people.


Solaris Tip #2: Legends of mighty beasts of myth are frequently told around the drinking tents of the Twelve Kingdoms. Many of the real beasts cannot abide the heat of Solaris and hibernate for months on ends, rarely waking if only to feed or mate. Other creatures prefer the colder climates of the darklands...

 

[Thomas Hobbes]

Tarim mentally rolls his eyes. For someone who seems awfully eager not to die, you're doing a poor job of it. Hmm. Perhaps he could work this to some small advantage.

"Tell me, friend," he says, stepping forward and speaking in the practiced voice of the heckler from the crowd. "Are you quite certain of the futility of the quest, and of all of our deaths in a year's time?" Assuming he gets the nod, he turns to the crowd. "Well then, I better get busy," he quips, and turns back to the man, helping him up from the ground. "I'll make you a bet," says Tarim in a carrying voice. "You will abandon this quest. You will go live a quiet life. Raise camels, maybe." He looks at his own beast. "I'm sure you deserve each other." He turns back.

"And I will go forth- towards Solaris, into the darklands..." he draws his sword with a flourish, and strikes at the air in front of him, "and into the lairs of foul beasts." He holds his sword loose at his side. "And in just under twelve months time, we'll meet again here at this spot." Tarim grins. "And if you are wrong, you will be alive and I will be a like unto a God. You can be my head priest." He waits for people to laugh at the joke, and then continues. "If you're right, you'll be almost dead and I'll be like unto a God. I'll bless you before you succumb."

He seaths his sword, sticks out his hand, and spits into his palm. "Deal?"

 

[Paxus Asclepius]

Tarim mentally rolls his eyes. For someone who seems awfully eager not to die, you're doing a poor job of it. Hmm. Perhaps he could work this to some small advantage.

"Tell me, friend," he says, stepping forward and speaking in the practiced voice of the heckler from the crowd. "Are you quite certain of the futility of the quest, and of all of our deaths in a year's time?" Assuming he gets the nod, he turns to the crowd. "Well then, I better get busy," he quips, and turns back to the man, helping him up from the ground. "I'll make you a bet," says Tarim in a carrying voice. "You will abandon this quest. You will go live a quiet life. Raise camels, maybe." He looks at his own beast. "I'm sure you deserve each other." He turns back.

"And I will go forth- towards Solaris, into the darklands..." he draws his sword with a flourish, and strikes at the air in front of him, "and into the lairs of foul beasts." He holds his sword loose at his side. "And in just under twelve months time, we'll meet again here at this spot." Tarim grins. "And if you are wrong, you will be alive and I will be a like unto a God. You can be my head priest." He waits for people to laugh at the joke, and then continues. "If you're right, you'll be almost dead and I'll be like unto a God. I'll bless you before you succumb."

He seaths his sword, sticks out his hand, and spits into his palm. "Deal?"

Khusrau laughs out loud. "You are a cunning one, friend Tarim. I agree. If we have but a year to live, we will make that year hold more than ten thousand men's lives."

 

[Thomas Hobbes]

Truth be told, Tarim views it a lot less philisophically. He plans to go on living for a long, long time, and living is better than glory. But it's always good to put on a show of bravado. People enjoy a spectacle.

 

[Argent Silvermage]

"Why must they blasphem?" Djaimr says to himslf as he enters the Inn.