Menu
News
All News
Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
Pathfinder
Starfinder
Warhammer
2d20 System
Year Zero Engine
Industry News
Reviews
Dragon Reflections
Columns
Weekly Digests
Weekly News Digest
Freebies, Sales & Bundles
RPG Print News
RPG Crowdfunding News
Game Content
ENterplanetary DimENsions
Mythological Figures
Opinion
Worlds of Design
Peregrine's Next
RPG Evolution
Other Columns
From the Freelancing Frontline
Monster ENcyclopedia
WotC/TSR Alumni Look Back
4 Hours w/RSD (Ryan Dancey)
The Road to 3E (Jonathan Tweet)
Greenwood's Realms (Ed Greenwood)
Drawmij's TSR (Jim Ward)
Community
Forums & Topics
Forum List
Latest Posts
Forum list
*Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
D&D Older Editions
*TTRPGs General
*Pathfinder & Starfinder
EN Publishing
*Geek Talk & Media
Search forums
Chat/Discord
Resources
Wiki
Pages
Latest activity
Media
New media
New comments
Search media
Downloads
Latest reviews
Search resources
EN Publishing
Store
EN5ider
Adventures in ZEITGEIST
Awfully Cheerful Engine
What's OLD is NEW
Judge Dredd & The Worlds Of 2000AD
War of the Burning Sky
Level Up: Advanced 5E
Events & Releases
Upcoming Events
Private Events
Featured Events
Socials!
Twitch
YouTube
Facebook (EN Publishing)
Facebook (EN World)
Twitter
Instagram
TikTok
Podcast
Features
Top 5 RPGs Compiled Charts 2004-Present
Adventure Game Industry Market Research Summary (RPGs) V1.0
Ryan Dancey: Acquiring TSR
Q&A With Gary Gygax
D&D Rules FAQs
TSR, WotC, & Paizo: A Comparative History
D&D Pronunciation Guide
Million Dollar TTRPG Kickstarters
Tabletop RPG Podcast Hall of Fame
Eric Noah's Unofficial D&D 3rd Edition News
D&D in the Mainstream
D&D & RPG History
About Morrus
Log in
Register
What's new
Search
Search
Search titles only
By:
Forums & Topics
Forum List
Latest Posts
Forum list
*Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
D&D Older Editions
*TTRPGs General
*Pathfinder & Starfinder
EN Publishing
*Geek Talk & Media
Search forums
Chat/Discord
Menu
Log in
Register
Install the app
Install
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
True20 Al-Qadim: Zakharan Nights (updated 6/21/06)
JavaScript is disabled. For a better experience, please enable JavaScript in your browser before proceeding.
You are using an out of date browser. It may not display this or other websites correctly.
You should upgrade or use an
alternative browser
.
Reply to thread
Message
<blockquote data-quote="The Shadow" data-source="post: 6378820" data-attributes="member: 16760"><p>[Apologies for resurrecting a long-dead thread, but I left a couple sessions off, and they're necessary background for a PbP game about to start.]</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Wherein begins the tale of "Between a Box and a Hot Place"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> I do not trust any merchant farther than a scimitar, but Jamul was a generous host and, as it was a late hour and we had done commiserating Zarif's plight, he invited Yasir and I to stay in his guest room. Not wishing to offend our host, and weary from travel, we acquiesced. That night, my fears of the sorcerer proved true, and all that dark magic which I longed to forever banish from my life came back to haunt me. Only this time, I had several unlikely friends at my side</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Tired yet brimming with hope, Abdul winds his way through the stalls of the Grand Bazaar, hoping to beat the looming rain clouds to his home. His face is clean of the egg whites, though he still wears the clothes of a beggar, and his eyes twinkle with light from the lightning that blasts in the heavens in the distance. Wind over the desert surrounding Huzuz, wind over the coast of Huzuz. Then, one jagged flash of lightning and Abdul sees it. The gold-chased chest housing Metef strapped to a camel. Shuri is there, his face numbed over as he follows a large Maghrebi man with long braided black hair and a staff. Just as soon as the vision appears, than do they vanish into the crowd, the night, and the first drops of rain.</p><p></p><p>Abdul gapes for a moment, then casts about in the crowd, making for the place he saw the good Shuri. He evades people with a beggar's practiced deftness.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Following the street he thought he saw them go down, Abdul dodges a kick from a mounted noble. "Yield, beggar!" shouts the noble as Abdul ducks past and into a busy alley of blacksmiths. The camel with Metef-in-a-chest is outside the shop, Shuri standing guard over it, a dark look on his face. The Maghrebi is under the awning of the smith's shop and is haggling for something.</p><p></p><p>Abdul moves to up to Shuri, wariness hidden in his heart. "Spare alms for a poor man, sahib?" He looks directly into Shuri's eyes, more directly than a beggar would.</p><p></p><p>Narrator: Shuri absently places a dirham in Abdul's palm, apparently not recognizing him. "Be safe young man," says Shuri, a pained look on his face.</p><p></p><p>Abdul is deeply suspicious by now, but he does not let it show in his voice. "You look troubled, kind sir! May I return your generosity by listening to your troubles?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Shuri heaves a deep sigh, chancing a glance over his shoulder at the Maghrebi, who gesticulates wildly with the smith. Wiping his sleep-weary eyes, Shuri looks at Abdul, "You remind me of a wise scribe I know. Are you able to deliver a message? Do you know where the Street of the Learned is?"</p><p></p><p>Abdul can't help but chuckle. "Surely you speak of the great Abdul al'Jann? I know him so well, he might as well be standing before you!" With this, he winks.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Blinking dumbly, Shuri stifles a laugh before quickly silencing himself. "God himself has smiled upon me in the hour I thought I was done for. Listen, Abdul, this Maghrebi has cursed me - it was years ago - and he's after Metef about something. He speaks in riddles and rhyme. "A vow" and "buried treasure." I'm not sure what he wants, but I cannot disobey him, and find the slightest bidding he gives me more compelling than a virgin's bed."</p><p></p><p>Abdul's face darkens. "He and Metef are indeed foals of the same litter, it would seem! Tell me more of this curse, my friend, that I may know how to help you."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The Maghrebi's negotiations seem to be going poorly, and suddenly he shouts at the shopkeeper, "Never in my life have I been so insulted. May God deprive you--- Ah, come, you are not worth it!" The shopkeeper yells at the Maghrebi, who gives him a rude gesture.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Quick, Abdul, you'd better hide yourself," whispers Shuri.</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Hide? You are speaking to a beggar, remember?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Shuri brightens when Abdul says this, and pretends to clean his thick beard. Walking over the Maghrebi calls to Shuri, "Come, fool Bedouin, the day is young and there's grave work to be done." The Maghrebi is a tall man with pocked skin, perhaps the result of a bout with the pox as a child. He wears various fetishes befitting a gypsy fortuneteller. Over his shoulder is a drum. Eyeing Abdul, he makes a ward against the Evil Eye. "Beggar boy, do you know how to find the graveyard they call Cemetery Square?"</p><p></p><p>Abdul rambles ingratiatingly, "Cemetery Square, sahib? Why, I grew up there and know it like the back of my hand! But that's no place for such a great gentleman as yourself, sahib! Terrible, murderous place it is, full of thieves and cutthroats. Why, it's enough to make strong men piss themselves, sahib, begging your pardon, sahib."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Did you hear that?" says the Maghrebi, a delighted expression on his pocked face. He knocks on the chest with a devious grin. "Then how fitting that the ashes of my cousin, a notorious crook, be buried among his kind. Two dirham for you to lead us to Cemetery Square."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Powerful dangerous it is, sahib. Two dirham is a small price for a man to take his life into his hands! Don't you agree, sahib?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Very well, four dirham, but not a dirham more! But you must also summon a blacksmith once we arrive there, agreed?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "I've always been impressed with the generosity of such fine gentlemen as yourself, sahib. But you do know there's ghosts there, and those as call 'em up. I'll be wanting two of those dirham now, begging your pardon, sahib."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator</strong>: "Fine, fine, you silver-fingered beggar boy!" says the Maghrebi testily. He snaps a look at Shuri, "Well, get hopping you, and grab the camel's reins."</p><p></p><p>Abdul pockets the cash. "That's a mighty fine camel you have there, sahib. Good color, fine hair." He prattles incessantly about this and that.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> As Abdul chatters and brown-noses the Maghrebi, he catches a young woman out of the corner of his eye following behind Shuri; a frightened looking expression passes over the young woman's face and she ducks behind a building. Oblivious, the Maghrebi kisses a lucky rabbit's foot about his neck. "Today is a good day, time for R'Akibum's luck to change, methinks! Beggar boy, what do you know about the tombs of Cemetery Square? Have you heard of Sitt Kalilagh?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Sitt Kalilagh was the original owner of the "Graveyard Mosque", the whorehouse where Abdul was born, some fifty years ago. Her ferocious temper and ruthless disposition are legend. She was also famous for her extreme obesity; they had to enlarge her tomb to fit her inside.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Darting from building to building, the young woman dressed in the garments of a merchant's daughter, tries to avoid the heavy rain starting to fall as well as being seen.</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Sitt Kalilagh? Oh, she was a mean one, sahib! Almost as mean as my mother's three sisters! I heard the tale of her while they dandled me on their knees, and I still have the bruises, sahib!" He starts adjusting his rags to show off the alleged bruises.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Shuri stifles a laugh, and the Maghrebi glares at him.</p><p></p><p>Abdul laughs inanely with Shuri. "He's a funny one, is the young man you have with you, sahib!" Meanwhile he is leading the group vaguely toward Cemetery Square, at a less than rapid pace.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "A foolish Bedouin who spends what he does not have, and steals what is not his," says the Maghrebi disdainfully, "though he's quite a good memory. He remembered me after all these years, didn't you Shuri?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Oh yes, R'Akibum, all too well," quips Shuri dourly, covering his face from the rain.</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Well, you're certainly a memorable gentleman, sahib! I'll be sure to tell my grandchildren all about you! 'Course I'll have to be married first. I've considered marrying Farida, you know. If only she didn't have the pox..."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Yes, yes, we all have marital troubles, but you're barely a man. Now how much further?" groans the Maghrebi irritably.</p><p></p><p>Abdul draws himself up to his not-very-tall height, stopping his movement. "I'll have you know I'm a man grown, sahib! I may be a poor beggar, but I have enough fingers and toes to count my years! I'm nearly twenty, sahib, and that's God's truth. They say cyphering is a skill of the wise and intelligent, sahib. Do you think I'm wise and intelligent?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Whatever you are, it's anything but taciturn," says R'Akibum sarcastically.</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Tac-i-turn?" He makes the sign against the Evil Eye. "Don't be usin' no spells on me, sahib! My mother told me all about those magickers. And hit me, too, so's I'd remember."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Yes, yes, and you have the bruises to show it too. Now, wouldn't a wise and intelligent boy want to earn his living and .....guide....us....to....the....graveyard?" says R'Akibum.</p><p></p><p>Abdul looks blankly at the man. "Graveyard...? OH! You mean Cemetery Square! Are you sure you want to go there, sahib?" He starts ambling lazily in the direction of the infamous slum again.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Boy," says R'Akibum his dark skin turning a shade of red, "I have frightened Beelzebub himself with my magic, and would make your mama's beatings seems like feather-play if you keep up this snail's pace. I am not some chump patrician who will fall for your ploy of getting more money for how long it takes us to get there!"</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Ploy, sahib? No sahib, not me! A deal's a deal, and sacred in the eyes of God. Says so in the Holy Qur'an. Or so my mother told me."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Your mother seems an interesting woman, a whip in one hand and a holy book in the other." R'Akibum keeps his sea-green eyes on the chest. "Would you like to know about my cousin in the chest?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Shuri says with a barbed edge to his voice, "It's not like you haven't told me that story, or some variant, three times in the past hour..."</p><p></p><p>Abdul picks up the pace just a bit. "Oh, my mother couldn't read, sahib. She was told it by a holy man once. Or so she said. Much as I hate to say it, sahib, I do believe that sometimes she was inclined to be less than truthful. Of course I'd like to hear about your cousin. I love stories."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Then I shall tell you a story the likes of which'd make a ghost pale...once we get to Cemetery Square."</p><p></p><p>Abdul sulks visibly. "Well, all right. But could I maybe hear some stories from this funny young friend of yours as we go? Meaning no offense, sahib, you being such a fine gentleman and all, but I'm a keen judge of character, and I have the impression you're in a bad mood, sahib. I don't know why, sahib, since I've always been told I'm a well-spoken fellow, for a beggar."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Hmph. He is a donkey and son of a donkey," says R'Akibum off-hand about Shuri, to which Shuri, growing hot in the face places a hand on his scimitar.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Seeing Shuri growing rash, R'Akibum storms up to him, waving his cudgel in Shuri's face, "Remember the terms of the arbitration, rash Bedouin! Or does the wind blow so hot in your head that you forget your place?" R'Akibum raps Shuri on the top of the head with his cudgel. "How much farther, beggar boy?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Donkeys are powerful useful beasts, don't you think so, sahib? Why, they can carry a load that'd break a man, for nothing more than a carrot! Yep, nothing for carrying a burden like a donkey. Unless it's a mule. Or a horse, maybe. But who'd load up a horse with stuff? Terrible thing to do to a horse. Then there's elephants, I suppose..."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "By God the Almighty, your rambling is incessant! You are almost as bad as Metef!" roars R'Akibum, his face a fine shade of crimson.</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Metef? Is that the name of your camel? Camels can be stubborn beasts, yep, sahib. This one's a fine one, though. Good color, nice hair."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> At first R'Akibum looks like he's going to burst, but then he lightens up. "Haha! Yes, he is a fine sort of camel, in his own way. Spitting at everyone he sees, and contributing nothing but dung. Are we getting close?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Oh, but dung is powerful useful stuff, sahib! Nothing like camel dung for a cough, 'specially if it's got maggots in it. The odor clears your sinuses right out, sahib. You just spread it on your chest. ... Oh! and you can burn it too!"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Abdul senses Metef trying to reach into his mind. Whispers begin to gather from the falling rain. "O young beggar...."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Abdul shakes the voice out of his head, hearing Shuri voicing his concerns to R'Akibum about the rain. "I understand you have a vendetta here, but couldn't we get some shelter from the rain first? I'm freezing."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Ven-detta?" He makes the sign against the Evil Eye again. "You magickers and your spells!"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Realizing that his fingers are turning quite cold in the winter rain, R'Akibum grins at Shuri. "A shame you didn't dress for colder weather, Bedouin." Then, to Abdul, "That is no spell," says R'Akibum with a quirky smile, "Why if you wanted to see some real magic, I could show you the likes of which'd burn out your eyes in their skull."</p><p></p><p>Abdul says dubiously, "That doesn't sound like much fun, sahib. I'm pretty sure that the Holy Qur'an says you shouldn't ought to be burning people's eyes out. Says so in black and white, sahib! Or so my mother told me."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> You draw near Cemetery Square. Why it seems like just yesterday that Abdul was here... [Yes, the Narrator has a sick sense of humor at times. <img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite1" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":)" />]</p><p></p><p>Abdul leads the way fearlessly into Knife-Loose Alley, prating and rambling away a mile a minute.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Finally, we reach your doom, Metef," hisses R'Akibum to the chest.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Unlike other sections of Cemetery Square which are quite exposed to the rain, Knife-Loose Alley is partially covered, so that curtains of water fall only at gaps in the covering, like a smooth scimitar stroke. Beggars and murderers huddle in the nooks and crannies of the alleyway, eager for a job to walk by.</p><p></p><p>Abdul says a bit louder than really necessary, "You'll want to be careful here, sahib! A fine gentleman like yourself... Like I told you, sahib, there's cutthroats about. And the Aqeedah, too, or so I'm told!" His teeth are starting to chatter from the cold.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Shuri shoots a questioning glance at Abdul, as if to ask 'are you sure you know what you're doing?' R'Akibum begins to notice the thugs who are gathering nearby, eyeing your odd group. Suddenly, something catches their eyes, and the thugs push past you. Abdul makes out the faint image of a young woman taking a sharp turn down an alley behind them, followed by the thugs.</p><p></p><p>Abdul blinks and points. "They're going after that young lady! We should help her!"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Shuri wheels around, while R'Akibum turns around slowly with an irritated expression on his face. "It's not our problem. Young women shouldn't be out at this hour anyhow," says R'Akibum heartlessly.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Shuri looks at R'Akibum pointedly. "You just try and stop me."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Well, sahib, if you care to find your way without me with all these cutthroats about, it's your lookout. The funny young man and I are gonna do something!"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Cursing his fate, R'Akibum collects himself and grudgingly follows along, guiding the camel himself.</p><p></p><p>Abdul hurries after the young woman, shouting, "Mind yourselves with this one, lads! She's al'Fameed's cousin's wife!"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Abdul catches up with one of the thugs, who looks vaguely familiar to Abdul. "Buzz off, youngling, this one's a goose served for dinner on a cold night." His fellows have surrounded the young woman and are taunting her.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Shuri lurks in the shadows behind Abdul, his scimitar drawn. R'Akibum stands at the entrance to the alley, not wanting to get involved.</p><p></p><p>Abdul stamps his foot. "It's your lookout, sahib, but I'm telling you she belongs to al'Fameed! I'll prove it!"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "How so?" asks the thug, holding back from his fellows to evaluate Abdul.</p><p></p><p>Abdul holds out the three dirham he just 'earned', plus all the copper bits he has on him. "I'm so confident that al'Fameed will reward me for rescuing this young lady, I'll give you my whole day's take of my own free will. When've you known a beggar to do THAT, hmm?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Arching his brow the thug looks at Abdul incredulously, "Y-you're not joking?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Not a bit of it! Tell him, young lady!"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The young woman is utterly silent, apparently quite chilled, but her eyes shine with something Abdul can only describe as pleading. One by one the thugs begin to back down. The thug that Abdul gave his "catch" to thanks him for looking out for the gang. "Are you one of Akim's boys?" asks the thug.</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Was once. Have no use for 'im now, old bustard."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "He is that," muses the thug. "Here, keep your catch. None'll trouble you down the rest of the alley, I'll see to it."</p><p></p><p>Abdul is utterly astonished. "A thousand thanks upon you, sahib, and God's blessings upon you!" He salaams deeply.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> As if rooted to the spot, the thug doesn't seem to want to leave, but he abruptly tears himself away making off down the alley. The young woman begins sobbing and Shuri goes to wrap what little extra clothing he has about her. "This is my former host's daughter. We need to get her warm."</p><p></p><p>Abdul can't contain himself. "Ashquar?! Can it be you?!"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The thug stops stunned. "How in the devil---?? Nobody has called me by that name for years!"</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Are you not my brother? Did we not swear to the Code together?" He steps forward hesitantly, face shining. "Do you not know me, brother?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Hakawati? But you-- They say you were murdered. Are-are you a ghost?" Ashquar tentatively comes forward while edging away at the same time.</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "No! Not at all. You must have heard the laughter..." Abdul suddenly remembers who is listening. "We have much to speak about."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> R'Akibum whistles, "For a beggar boy, you have a princely heart!" Walking up to the group, R'Akibum rests on his cudgel, giving Ashquar the Evil Eye. "In my country do you know what they do to men who attack unarmed women? Gelding, without anaesthesia."</p><p></p><p>Abdul adds reprovingly, "That's not the Code, brother, and you know it. BUT! This man is not in a position to talk! He is a thief, and the man he has stolen this camel and chest from will pay you in gold for their return!"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> R'Akibum glares at Abdul, "Why are you speaking of what you know nothing about? What sort of scam are you in here?" He asks, suddenly becoming very suspicious. Shuri, with the young woman under his arm, stands behind R'Akibum with a concerned expression on his face.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Ashquar strives to keep his head up, despite the shame he obviously feels at Abdul's admonition. He keeps a sharp eye on the Maghrebi, however. Stories of this rascal have gotten around Cemetery Square. Ashquar keeps an inquisitive look, but doesn't make any action toward R'Akibum either way.</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "I mean that chest was escorted on that camel from Zarif by Yasir al'Ayyubi. I know he did not give it to you of his own will. Do you dare to deny it?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Arching his brow, R'Akibum sniffs indignantly, "Ah, now I know who you are. I saw you once, in a dream that Chango sang in my ear. A trickster scholar! Ah, but we have not been formally introduced yet..."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Yes, permit me to introduce myself!" Turning to Shuri, he speaks liquid syllables in a language going back to Father Adam: "Shuri, son of Razan, be loosed of your binding!"</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="The Shadow, post: 6378820, member: 16760"] [Apologies for resurrecting a long-dead thread, but I left a couple sessions off, and they're necessary background for a PbP game about to start.] [B]Narrator:[/B] Wherein begins the tale of "Between a Box and a Hot Place" [B]Narrator:[/B] I do not trust any merchant farther than a scimitar, but Jamul was a generous host and, as it was a late hour and we had done commiserating Zarif's plight, he invited Yasir and I to stay in his guest room. Not wishing to offend our host, and weary from travel, we acquiesced. That night, my fears of the sorcerer proved true, and all that dark magic which I longed to forever banish from my life came back to haunt me. Only this time, I had several unlikely friends at my side [B]Narrator:[/B] Tired yet brimming with hope, Abdul winds his way through the stalls of the Grand Bazaar, hoping to beat the looming rain clouds to his home. His face is clean of the egg whites, though he still wears the clothes of a beggar, and his eyes twinkle with light from the lightning that blasts in the heavens in the distance. Wind over the desert surrounding Huzuz, wind over the coast of Huzuz. Then, one jagged flash of lightning and Abdul sees it. The gold-chased chest housing Metef strapped to a camel. Shuri is there, his face numbed over as he follows a large Maghrebi man with long braided black hair and a staff. Just as soon as the vision appears, than do they vanish into the crowd, the night, and the first drops of rain. Abdul gapes for a moment, then casts about in the crowd, making for the place he saw the good Shuri. He evades people with a beggar's practiced deftness. [B]Narrator:[/B] Following the street he thought he saw them go down, Abdul dodges a kick from a mounted noble. "Yield, beggar!" shouts the noble as Abdul ducks past and into a busy alley of blacksmiths. The camel with Metef-in-a-chest is outside the shop, Shuri standing guard over it, a dark look on his face. The Maghrebi is under the awning of the smith's shop and is haggling for something. Abdul moves to up to Shuri, wariness hidden in his heart. "Spare alms for a poor man, sahib?" He looks directly into Shuri's eyes, more directly than a beggar would. Narrator: Shuri absently places a dirham in Abdul's palm, apparently not recognizing him. "Be safe young man," says Shuri, a pained look on his face. Abdul is deeply suspicious by now, but he does not let it show in his voice. "You look troubled, kind sir! May I return your generosity by listening to your troubles?" [B]Narrator:[/B] Shuri heaves a deep sigh, chancing a glance over his shoulder at the Maghrebi, who gesticulates wildly with the smith. Wiping his sleep-weary eyes, Shuri looks at Abdul, "You remind me of a wise scribe I know. Are you able to deliver a message? Do you know where the Street of the Learned is?" Abdul can't help but chuckle. "Surely you speak of the great Abdul al'Jann? I know him so well, he might as well be standing before you!" With this, he winks. [B]Narrator:[/B] Blinking dumbly, Shuri stifles a laugh before quickly silencing himself. "God himself has smiled upon me in the hour I thought I was done for. Listen, Abdul, this Maghrebi has cursed me - it was years ago - and he's after Metef about something. He speaks in riddles and rhyme. "A vow" and "buried treasure." I'm not sure what he wants, but I cannot disobey him, and find the slightest bidding he gives me more compelling than a virgin's bed." Abdul's face darkens. "He and Metef are indeed foals of the same litter, it would seem! Tell me more of this curse, my friend, that I may know how to help you." [B]Narrator:[/B] The Maghrebi's negotiations seem to be going poorly, and suddenly he shouts at the shopkeeper, "Never in my life have I been so insulted. May God deprive you--- Ah, come, you are not worth it!" The shopkeeper yells at the Maghrebi, who gives him a rude gesture. [B]Narrator:[/B] "Quick, Abdul, you'd better hide yourself," whispers Shuri. [B]Abdul:[/B] "Hide? You are speaking to a beggar, remember?" [B]Narrator:[/B] Shuri brightens when Abdul says this, and pretends to clean his thick beard. Walking over the Maghrebi calls to Shuri, "Come, fool Bedouin, the day is young and there's grave work to be done." The Maghrebi is a tall man with pocked skin, perhaps the result of a bout with the pox as a child. He wears various fetishes befitting a gypsy fortuneteller. Over his shoulder is a drum. Eyeing Abdul, he makes a ward against the Evil Eye. "Beggar boy, do you know how to find the graveyard they call Cemetery Square?" Abdul rambles ingratiatingly, "Cemetery Square, sahib? Why, I grew up there and know it like the back of my hand! But that's no place for such a great gentleman as yourself, sahib! Terrible, murderous place it is, full of thieves and cutthroats. Why, it's enough to make strong men piss themselves, sahib, begging your pardon, sahib." [B]Narrator:[/B] "Did you hear that?" says the Maghrebi, a delighted expression on his pocked face. He knocks on the chest with a devious grin. "Then how fitting that the ashes of my cousin, a notorious crook, be buried among his kind. Two dirham for you to lead us to Cemetery Square." [B]Abdul:[/B] "Powerful dangerous it is, sahib. Two dirham is a small price for a man to take his life into his hands! Don't you agree, sahib?" [B]Narrator:[/B] "Very well, four dirham, but not a dirham more! But you must also summon a blacksmith once we arrive there, agreed?" [B]Abdul:[/B] "I've always been impressed with the generosity of such fine gentlemen as yourself, sahib. But you do know there's ghosts there, and those as call 'em up. I'll be wanting two of those dirham now, begging your pardon, sahib." [B]Narrator[/B]: "Fine, fine, you silver-fingered beggar boy!" says the Maghrebi testily. He snaps a look at Shuri, "Well, get hopping you, and grab the camel's reins." Abdul pockets the cash. "That's a mighty fine camel you have there, sahib. Good color, fine hair." He prattles incessantly about this and that. [B]Narrator:[/B] As Abdul chatters and brown-noses the Maghrebi, he catches a young woman out of the corner of his eye following behind Shuri; a frightened looking expression passes over the young woman's face and she ducks behind a building. Oblivious, the Maghrebi kisses a lucky rabbit's foot about his neck. "Today is a good day, time for R'Akibum's luck to change, methinks! Beggar boy, what do you know about the tombs of Cemetery Square? Have you heard of Sitt Kalilagh?" [B]Narrator:[/B] Sitt Kalilagh was the original owner of the "Graveyard Mosque", the whorehouse where Abdul was born, some fifty years ago. Her ferocious temper and ruthless disposition are legend. She was also famous for her extreme obesity; they had to enlarge her tomb to fit her inside. [B]Narrator:[/B] Darting from building to building, the young woman dressed in the garments of a merchant's daughter, tries to avoid the heavy rain starting to fall as well as being seen. [B]Abdul:[/B] "Sitt Kalilagh? Oh, she was a mean one, sahib! Almost as mean as my mother's three sisters! I heard the tale of her while they dandled me on their knees, and I still have the bruises, sahib!" He starts adjusting his rags to show off the alleged bruises. [B]Narrator:[/B] Shuri stifles a laugh, and the Maghrebi glares at him. Abdul laughs inanely with Shuri. "He's a funny one, is the young man you have with you, sahib!" Meanwhile he is leading the group vaguely toward Cemetery Square, at a less than rapid pace. [B]Narrator:[/B] "A foolish Bedouin who spends what he does not have, and steals what is not his," says the Maghrebi disdainfully, "though he's quite a good memory. He remembered me after all these years, didn't you Shuri?" [B]Narrator:[/B] "Oh yes, R'Akibum, all too well," quips Shuri dourly, covering his face from the rain. [B]Abdul:[/B] "Well, you're certainly a memorable gentleman, sahib! I'll be sure to tell my grandchildren all about you! 'Course I'll have to be married first. I've considered marrying Farida, you know. If only she didn't have the pox..." [B]Narrator:[/B] "Yes, yes, we all have marital troubles, but you're barely a man. Now how much further?" groans the Maghrebi irritably. Abdul draws himself up to his not-very-tall height, stopping his movement. "I'll have you know I'm a man grown, sahib! I may be a poor beggar, but I have enough fingers and toes to count my years! I'm nearly twenty, sahib, and that's God's truth. They say cyphering is a skill of the wise and intelligent, sahib. Do you think I'm wise and intelligent?" [B]Narrator:[/B] "Whatever you are, it's anything but taciturn," says R'Akibum sarcastically. [B]Abdul:[/B] "Tac-i-turn?" He makes the sign against the Evil Eye. "Don't be usin' no spells on me, sahib! My mother told me all about those magickers. And hit me, too, so's I'd remember." [B]Narrator:[/B] "Yes, yes, and you have the bruises to show it too. Now, wouldn't a wise and intelligent boy want to earn his living and .....guide....us....to....the....graveyard?" says R'Akibum. Abdul looks blankly at the man. "Graveyard...? OH! You mean Cemetery Square! Are you sure you want to go there, sahib?" He starts ambling lazily in the direction of the infamous slum again. [B]Narrator:[/B] "Boy," says R'Akibum his dark skin turning a shade of red, "I have frightened Beelzebub himself with my magic, and would make your mama's beatings seems like feather-play if you keep up this snail's pace. I am not some chump patrician who will fall for your ploy of getting more money for how long it takes us to get there!" [B]Abdul:[/B] "Ploy, sahib? No sahib, not me! A deal's a deal, and sacred in the eyes of God. Says so in the Holy Qur'an. Or so my mother told me." [B]Narrator:[/B] "Your mother seems an interesting woman, a whip in one hand and a holy book in the other." R'Akibum keeps his sea-green eyes on the chest. "Would you like to know about my cousin in the chest?" [B]Narrator:[/B] Shuri says with a barbed edge to his voice, "It's not like you haven't told me that story, or some variant, three times in the past hour..." Abdul picks up the pace just a bit. "Oh, my mother couldn't read, sahib. She was told it by a holy man once. Or so she said. Much as I hate to say it, sahib, I do believe that sometimes she was inclined to be less than truthful. Of course I'd like to hear about your cousin. I love stories." [B]Narrator:[/B] "Then I shall tell you a story the likes of which'd make a ghost pale...once we get to Cemetery Square." Abdul sulks visibly. "Well, all right. But could I maybe hear some stories from this funny young friend of yours as we go? Meaning no offense, sahib, you being such a fine gentleman and all, but I'm a keen judge of character, and I have the impression you're in a bad mood, sahib. I don't know why, sahib, since I've always been told I'm a well-spoken fellow, for a beggar." [B]Narrator:[/B] "Hmph. He is a donkey and son of a donkey," says R'Akibum off-hand about Shuri, to which Shuri, growing hot in the face places a hand on his scimitar. [B]Narrator:[/B] Seeing Shuri growing rash, R'Akibum storms up to him, waving his cudgel in Shuri's face, "Remember the terms of the arbitration, rash Bedouin! Or does the wind blow so hot in your head that you forget your place?" R'Akibum raps Shuri on the top of the head with his cudgel. "How much farther, beggar boy?" [B]Abdul:[/B] "Donkeys are powerful useful beasts, don't you think so, sahib? Why, they can carry a load that'd break a man, for nothing more than a carrot! Yep, nothing for carrying a burden like a donkey. Unless it's a mule. Or a horse, maybe. But who'd load up a horse with stuff? Terrible thing to do to a horse. Then there's elephants, I suppose..." [B]Narrator:[/B] "By God the Almighty, your rambling is incessant! You are almost as bad as Metef!" roars R'Akibum, his face a fine shade of crimson. [B]Abdul:[/B] "Metef? Is that the name of your camel? Camels can be stubborn beasts, yep, sahib. This one's a fine one, though. Good color, nice hair." [B]Narrator:[/B] At first R'Akibum looks like he's going to burst, but then he lightens up. "Haha! Yes, he is a fine sort of camel, in his own way. Spitting at everyone he sees, and contributing nothing but dung. Are we getting close?" [B]Abdul:[/B] "Oh, but dung is powerful useful stuff, sahib! Nothing like camel dung for a cough, 'specially if it's got maggots in it. The odor clears your sinuses right out, sahib. You just spread it on your chest. ... Oh! and you can burn it too!" [B]Narrator:[/B] Abdul senses Metef trying to reach into his mind. Whispers begin to gather from the falling rain. "O young beggar...." [B]Narrator:[/B] Abdul shakes the voice out of his head, hearing Shuri voicing his concerns to R'Akibum about the rain. "I understand you have a vendetta here, but couldn't we get some shelter from the rain first? I'm freezing." [B]Abdul:[/B] "Ven-detta?" He makes the sign against the Evil Eye again. "You magickers and your spells!" [B]Narrator:[/B] Realizing that his fingers are turning quite cold in the winter rain, R'Akibum grins at Shuri. "A shame you didn't dress for colder weather, Bedouin." Then, to Abdul, "That is no spell," says R'Akibum with a quirky smile, "Why if you wanted to see some real magic, I could show you the likes of which'd burn out your eyes in their skull." Abdul says dubiously, "That doesn't sound like much fun, sahib. I'm pretty sure that the Holy Qur'an says you shouldn't ought to be burning people's eyes out. Says so in black and white, sahib! Or so my mother told me." [B]Narrator:[/B] You draw near Cemetery Square. Why it seems like just yesterday that Abdul was here... [Yes, the Narrator has a sick sense of humor at times. :)] Abdul leads the way fearlessly into Knife-Loose Alley, prating and rambling away a mile a minute. [B]Narrator:[/B] "Finally, we reach your doom, Metef," hisses R'Akibum to the chest. [B]Narrator:[/B] Unlike other sections of Cemetery Square which are quite exposed to the rain, Knife-Loose Alley is partially covered, so that curtains of water fall only at gaps in the covering, like a smooth scimitar stroke. Beggars and murderers huddle in the nooks and crannies of the alleyway, eager for a job to walk by. Abdul says a bit louder than really necessary, "You'll want to be careful here, sahib! A fine gentleman like yourself... Like I told you, sahib, there's cutthroats about. And the Aqeedah, too, or so I'm told!" His teeth are starting to chatter from the cold. [B]Narrator:[/B] Shuri shoots a questioning glance at Abdul, as if to ask 'are you sure you know what you're doing?' R'Akibum begins to notice the thugs who are gathering nearby, eyeing your odd group. Suddenly, something catches their eyes, and the thugs push past you. Abdul makes out the faint image of a young woman taking a sharp turn down an alley behind them, followed by the thugs. Abdul blinks and points. "They're going after that young lady! We should help her!" [B]Narrator:[/B] Shuri wheels around, while R'Akibum turns around slowly with an irritated expression on his face. "It's not our problem. Young women shouldn't be out at this hour anyhow," says R'Akibum heartlessly. [B]Narrator:[/B] Shuri looks at R'Akibum pointedly. "You just try and stop me." [B]Abdul:[/B] "Well, sahib, if you care to find your way without me with all these cutthroats about, it's your lookout. The funny young man and I are gonna do something!" [B]Narrator:[/B] Cursing his fate, R'Akibum collects himself and grudgingly follows along, guiding the camel himself. Abdul hurries after the young woman, shouting, "Mind yourselves with this one, lads! She's al'Fameed's cousin's wife!" [B]Narrator:[/B] Abdul catches up with one of the thugs, who looks vaguely familiar to Abdul. "Buzz off, youngling, this one's a goose served for dinner on a cold night." His fellows have surrounded the young woman and are taunting her. [B]Narrator:[/B] Shuri lurks in the shadows behind Abdul, his scimitar drawn. R'Akibum stands at the entrance to the alley, not wanting to get involved. Abdul stamps his foot. "It's your lookout, sahib, but I'm telling you she belongs to al'Fameed! I'll prove it!" [B]Narrator:[/B] "How so?" asks the thug, holding back from his fellows to evaluate Abdul. Abdul holds out the three dirham he just 'earned', plus all the copper bits he has on him. "I'm so confident that al'Fameed will reward me for rescuing this young lady, I'll give you my whole day's take of my own free will. When've you known a beggar to do THAT, hmm?" [B]Narrator:[/B] Arching his brow the thug looks at Abdul incredulously, "Y-you're not joking?" [B]Abdul:[/B] "Not a bit of it! Tell him, young lady!" [B]Narrator:[/B] The young woman is utterly silent, apparently quite chilled, but her eyes shine with something Abdul can only describe as pleading. One by one the thugs begin to back down. The thug that Abdul gave his "catch" to thanks him for looking out for the gang. "Are you one of Akim's boys?" asks the thug. [B]Abdul:[/B] "Was once. Have no use for 'im now, old bustard." [B]Narrator:[/B] "He is that," muses the thug. "Here, keep your catch. None'll trouble you down the rest of the alley, I'll see to it." Abdul is utterly astonished. "A thousand thanks upon you, sahib, and God's blessings upon you!" He salaams deeply. [B]Narrator:[/B] As if rooted to the spot, the thug doesn't seem to want to leave, but he abruptly tears himself away making off down the alley. The young woman begins sobbing and Shuri goes to wrap what little extra clothing he has about her. "This is my former host's daughter. We need to get her warm." Abdul can't contain himself. "Ashquar?! Can it be you?!" [B]Narrator:[/B] The thug stops stunned. "How in the devil---?? Nobody has called me by that name for years!" [B]Abdul:[/B] "Are you not my brother? Did we not swear to the Code together?" He steps forward hesitantly, face shining. "Do you not know me, brother?" [B]Narrator:[/B] "Hakawati? But you-- They say you were murdered. Are-are you a ghost?" Ashquar tentatively comes forward while edging away at the same time. [B]Abdul:[/B] "No! Not at all. You must have heard the laughter..." Abdul suddenly remembers who is listening. "We have much to speak about." [B]Narrator:[/B] R'Akibum whistles, "For a beggar boy, you have a princely heart!" Walking up to the group, R'Akibum rests on his cudgel, giving Ashquar the Evil Eye. "In my country do you know what they do to men who attack unarmed women? Gelding, without anaesthesia." Abdul adds reprovingly, "That's not the Code, brother, and you know it. BUT! This man is not in a position to talk! He is a thief, and the man he has stolen this camel and chest from will pay you in gold for their return!" [B]Narrator:[/B] R'Akibum glares at Abdul, "Why are you speaking of what you know nothing about? What sort of scam are you in here?" He asks, suddenly becoming very suspicious. Shuri, with the young woman under his arm, stands behind R'Akibum with a concerned expression on his face. [B]Narrator:[/B] Ashquar strives to keep his head up, despite the shame he obviously feels at Abdul's admonition. He keeps a sharp eye on the Maghrebi, however. Stories of this rascal have gotten around Cemetery Square. Ashquar keeps an inquisitive look, but doesn't make any action toward R'Akibum either way. [B]Abdul:[/B] "I mean that chest was escorted on that camel from Zarif by Yasir al'Ayyubi. I know he did not give it to you of his own will. Do you dare to deny it?" [B]Narrator:[/B] Arching his brow, R'Akibum sniffs indignantly, "Ah, now I know who you are. I saw you once, in a dream that Chango sang in my ear. A trickster scholar! Ah, but we have not been formally introduced yet..." [B]Abdul:[/B] "Yes, permit me to introduce myself!" Turning to Shuri, he speaks liquid syllables in a language going back to Father Adam: "Shuri, son of Razan, be loosed of your binding!" [/QUOTE]
Insert quotes…
Verification
Post reply
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
True20 Al-Qadim: Zakharan Nights (updated 6/21/06)
Top